


Stuck at home - collection

by Bergen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:14:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 59
Words: 84,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23295352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bergen/pseuds/Bergen
Summary: Hey everyone*sheepish wave*stuck at home, too?Maybe reading some stories is another way to get through these hard times. So this is basically just going to be a collection of short stories about anything you want me to write. Anything you’d like to see. Just drop a prompt and I’ll try to write it.I generally write in the ‘Tony Stark being a mentor/guardian for Peter Parker’ type of genre (see tags) but really, anything goes (although let’s keep it in a marvel universe so the tags don’t go all over the place).(Note: collection is now final)
Comments: 461
Kudos: 609





	1. What's this? [index]

This collection is now final! I am no longer taking prompts.

Please note that I wrote these pretty quickly so they might not all reflect my best work. Please excuse any typos etc.

An index of all the stories below.

**INDEX**

Ch2 [tabbycat1220]: Bruce has to rescue Tony and Peter from his locked-down lab.

Ch3 [meganseverafter]: Tony 'dads Peter to death on front of his classmates'.

CH4 [FujoshiNekoOwO]: When Peter is first introduced to the Avengers, he has every reason to be shy and awkward. But he gets over it. Quickly.  
(tag: AvengersFam)

CH5 [JuSt_AnOth3r_N3rd]: Peter knows that Midtown High knows he's Spider-Man but pretends he doesn't know they know.  
(tag: Peter/MJ relationship hinting)

CH6 [PotterinPakistan]: Where Spider-Man's identity is a really badly kept secret.

CH7 [Comet_in_the_sky]: The Avengers have a special birthday tradition, and Peter is about to find out.  
(this is a 'Good Publicity' one-off)

CH8 [KendraDhyanna]: Iron-granddad is looking after Peter's daughter for the day.  
(tags: Peter/MJ relationship, Grandad!Tony and Adult!Peter)

CH9 [Maya_Di_Angelo & NervousOwl]: The 'rogues' return to the compound, and Peter knows just how to deal with it.

CH10 [FixYou1394]: Tony deals with Peter being a reckless Spider-Man.  
(this is a 'Good Publicity' one-off) (tags: mild angst)

CH11 [spiderlingthememe]: Peter temporarily loses his powers, leaving Tony to take care of his half blind, asthmatic mentee.

CH12 [Nessa90610]: A 'The Little Prince’-inspired AU. Tony is stranded in the desert and is visited by a strange boy.  
(tags: AU)

CH13 [Squirrelflight26]: Steve helps Peter with a school project

CH14 [13 55935]: A good ol’ fashioned Sickfic!

CH15 [Dewin and Genibane]: Tony finds out Peter is struggling financially and, obviously, takes him shopping!

CH16 [Magmia_Flare]: On their way to the Decathlon semi-finals, Peter gets into trouble. Tony bails him out by being a literal helicopter parent.

CH17 [usingmymadeupname]: Tony and Pepper are having a daughter, making Peter wonder where that leaves him. (tags: plenty of angst)

CH18 [the_ellum]: All the Avengers are stuck at home. Which leads to an unexpected meeting.  
(tags: Identity reveal)

CH19 [Casey]: Tony and Pepper decide to foster Peter, a boy with selective mutism and a love for ice cream.  
(tags: AU with no Avengers, no Iron-Man, no Spider-Man. Mute!Peter (selective mutism). 10 y/o Peter)

CH20 [Miiam & EmilyWeaslette]: When the Avengers catch Tony secretly visiting some lady in Queens, they decide to investigate.  
(Tags: identity reveal)

CH21 [divizna999]: Morgan appears to be the same kind of tech prodigy as Tony is. Peter isn’t sure if he should be happy about it.

C22 [Malya & Vioet7]: Peter is stressed and takes it out on Tony.  
(tags: mild angst)

CH23 [Frost_Nova]: Peter discovers a new ability. Tony steps up to help him master it.  
(Tags: Wingfic (more or less). AU where Spider-Man can fly.)

CH24 [Titania_Fernweh & Jaternal]: This is certainly not the worst injury Peter has sustained during a mission. But Tony doesn’t need to know that.

CH25 [JaDePeacock]: Tony and Pepper are late for an important event. So Peter steps in. No big deal, at all.

CH26 [Sleepingelle]: Peter asks Tony for a little advice.  
(Tags: social media based content)

CH27 [Pretzel_Writing07]: Wade wants to bring his boyfriend a present, no matter what it takes.  
(tags: SpideyPool, Wade Wilson/Peter Parker, with Teenager!Wade, which means pre-Deadpool Wade, mild innuendos, breaking fourth wall)

CH28 [StressedSpider]: Tony rescues a baby Peter.

CH29 [Temo & GeogieOK]: Pepper gives Peter a few life lessons.

CH30 [Birdethbby & OTPmorelike2000truepairings]: The Avengers hijack Peter’s school trip.

CH31 [drabble by the author]: The Avengers discuss their respective bucket lists.

CH32 [Blueswan142]: A “Good Publicity" one-off where Peter befriends Deadpool.  
(this is a 'Good Publicity' one-off)

CH33 [AINx]: Peter gets kidnapped. And he doesn’t want anyone else to get involved – one person in particular.  
(tag: Post-Endgame AU)

CH34 [Cosmic_skye]: Flash has spent over a month recovering from a concussion. When he finally returns to school, he is in for a suprise.

CH35 [AnnLeigh]: Peter is bit by a spider on a school trip, and his parents aren’t sure how to deal with his new powers.  
(tag: AU where Peter is Tony & Pepper’s biological son.)

CH36 [Butterflygrl]: Peter comes to the Compound with a kitten stuck to his hand. Can't tell who is sticking to whom, though.

CH37 [StarkPotts]: A high school reunion in MidTown  
(tags: Adult Peter Parker)

CH38 [Peterbenjamin & sharon]: Tony and Peter accidentally bodyswap for a day  
(tags: warning for bullying)

CH39 [Naomietrekkie]: Tony is in the final stages of his Post-Endgame recovery. Perfect timing for a roadtrip with his three favorite kids.  
(tag: Post-Endgame AU where Tony lives)

CH40 [gimmepizza & Burt_Macklin_FBI_49]: The Decathlon team is fed up with Peter’s obvious lies, and wants to find out what is going on with him.

CH41 [Emily & Mycorner2k19]: Where Rhodey finds out he has an honorary nephew.

CH42 [SpideyKing]: Tony hasn't spoken to Peter since their big ferry fight. And then his plane crashes on Coney Island.  
(tag: A homecoming AU)

CH43 [Chiyanpurana]: Peter's life has many possible outcomes... but one clear constant.

CH44 [outerxbabylon]: It had started as an innocent joke. And now the whole world thinks Tony has a son.

CH45 [Bookworm]: Peter has just turned 19 while away at MIT, and he misses home.

CH46 [LunaStarTheCat]: Ross wants to sign the Sokovian Accords, but Steve has his doubts.  
(tags: Wingfic AU, Civil-War AU, a little dystopian, open-ended)

CH47 [Spoods]: Tony’s visits to Peter have not been well received, recently. Tony hopes this week will be better.  
(tag: 20 y/o Peter)

CH48 [55935]: Tony's new entern keeps getting unexplainable injuries, and he needs Sam to do something about it.  
(tag: References to (but no actual) child abuse)

CH49 [Lady_Gallatea_Ravenclaw]: Peter is quarantined at the compound, and needs some new methods of studying. Enter the Avengers.

CH50 [Jenhiddles]: Peter really needs to defeat a new enemy, but stupid Flash keeps trying to safe his life.

CH51 [8salfeti8]: Tony is a responsible parent. And what do responsible parents do? They hire responsible babysitters.

CH52 [Whyamiobsessed]: Peter had hoped to make it through college without having to deal with the same shit he went through in high school. But now, it’s all going to start again. People staring, whispering.

CH53 [SpideyStark26]: Everyone agrees: Tony is spoiling Morgan far too much. He'll let her do anything she wants. Anything?

CH54 [LaLouisaBlack]: The Avengers knew Tony has a son, and they knew Spider-Man. They just didn’t know they were the same person.  
(tag: Tony as Peter's Bio dad)

CH55 [Ratusoze Loki]: An Avengers x Pirates of the Caribbean crossover.  
(tag: AU/crossover, adult!Peter)

CH56 [EmilyWeaslette]: This is a sequel to the chapter 'zoom-zoom'. Tony brings an injured Spider-Man back to his tower, and discovers this isn’t the first time he has gotten this kid out of a jam.

CH57 [KendraDhyanna & Bookworm]: Peter gets his heart broken for the first time at a very unfortunate moment. Or maybe not so much.  
(tags: angst, angst, angst. Also, Peter as Tony & Pepper’s biological child)

CH58 [Jenhiddles]: Tony and Pepper are expecting their first child. And Peter is 1000% prepared for it.

CH59 [8salfeti8]: Peter is having some secrets, and Tony knows just how to get him to talk.  
(tag: let’s call this… an AU where Dr. Strange can make truth potions :p)


	2. Lockdown in lab B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, phew, a lot of comments coming in! I'll be writing the stories in the order that I get the prompts. I'll keep the stories relatively short (so I can write more of them) and generally light hearted (because I feel that's what we need right now).
> 
> In this episode: Bruce needs to rescue Tony and Peter from his locked down lab [prompt by tabbycat1220].

“Did I leave the other bag in the car?”

“I have it right here, Bruce,” Pepper says, lifting her left arm to show the plastic bag dangling from it. “You’re becoming a real scatterbrain.”

“That’s why I always need you to come with me on these little trips,” Bruce jokes.

They enter the otherwise empty compound, and Bruce halts in his steps when he notices a red light flashing overhead.

“FRIDAY? Is there an emergency protocol running right now?”

“Complete lockdown in laboratory B,” FRIDAY informs him. “All exits have been sealed.”

Bruce drops his bags to the floor.

Pepper pales. “What does that mean?”

Bruce is already jogging towards the central office so he can check the surveillance cameras in his lab. “Did anyone break in? What did they take?”

“No security breach,” FRIDAY reports. “But I need your confirmation to reverse the lockdown.”

Bruce has reached the office, with Pepper at his heels. “Show me the footage of the lab.”

An image pops up on the screen. An image of Tony Stark, who appears to be taking a nap in a desk chair, sitting right in front of the camera in the lab. Bruce can hear some unidentified noises in the background.

“Tony!”

Tony jolts awake and blinks a few times before his eyes focus on the screen in front of him. “Bruce! Finally, thank god. We’ve been stuck in here for three days! Food is running low!”

“Pepper and I have only been gone for about two hours,” Bruce points out.

“Fine. We've been here maybe an hour. But it felt like three days. FRIDAY won’t let me out! What the hell?”

“I’m the only one who can override this lockdown, Tony,” Bruce says. “We designed it that way together, remember? Which is why you should _never_ enter my lab unsupervised.”

“Oh – thanks for the lecture, _dad_. Don’t forget to make me a packed lunch later, and check if I’ve finished my homework.”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “What were you doing in there?”

“We just needed one little sample of Peter’s blood, but as soon as I even _touched_ the storage, the whole lab shut down.”

“It’s secured by Stark tech,” Bruce says, his lips twitching. “State of the art.”

“Yes, the irony is amusing me to no end. Get us the hell out before someone gets killed!”

“Tony – don’t worry. There aren’t any dangerous chemicals in there.”

“I’m not worried about that!” Tony bites back. “I’m worried about _that!_ ” And he leans aside to give Bruce a better look at the lab behind him – and specifically, at a large figure swinging from the chandelier, jumping from wall to wall, crashing into desks as he goes.

“Is that what all that noise was? Is that Peter?”

“Yeah, he’s suffering from hyperactive teenage boy syndrome,” Tony says, his face filling the screen once again. “Do you have a cure for _that?_ ”

“Try a smartphone?” Bruce suggests.

“I tried a smartphone, Banner! It only bought me about half an hour. Plan B was ‘see who can be quiet the longest’. It failed after one attempt. Now he’s just wasting his own web fluid and I’m not sure what will happen when he runs out. I think….” Tony moves even closer to the camera so Bruce can only see his mouth moving. “…I think he might eat me.”

A crash is heard behind him, and Peter yelps; “I’m okay!”

“Can you tell him not to break any of my microscopes?” Bruce asks, nervous.

“Oh, _now_ you’re getting worried, are you?” Tony drawls, leaning back and crossing his arms. “I will tell him no such thing. In fact, I’ll personally smash one of your microscopes to pieces for every ten minutes we’re in here. Maybe that’ll give you an incentive to get us out.”

“I’m getting you out, Tony!” Bruce replied, frantically clicking his way through the software. “Don’t touch my microscopes! It’ll only take a few minutes.”

-

Peter does a double backflip, elegantly landing on his feet next to Tony. “Is he getting us out?”

“A few minutes,” Tony murmurs, massaging his temples. He looks like he is fighting a headache.

“He should probably grab us that blood sample, then,” Peter suggests, hopping from one foot to the other.

“Probably,” Tony mutters.

“We’re still going to look at my blood when we get out of here, right?” Peter asks hopefully.

“Your fascination with your own blood is a little morbid, kid.”

“No, it’s not,” Peter says, flicking the light switch on the desk lamp next to Tony, turning the light off, then on, then off. “It’s just common sense.” Flick. Flick. “I should know how my body works, right?” Flick _flick flick flickflick_.

“Kid, will you knock that off?” Tony snaps. “You’re giving me a headache.”

Peter snatches his hand back, feeling guilty. “Sorry.”

Tony just grumbles a little.

Suddenly the red light above the entrance stops flashing and the steel shutters roll up, bathing the room in sunlight. The reinforced doors slide open, revealing Bruce and Pepper standing in the doorway.

“You’re both idiots,” Bruce proclaims.

Peter grins. “Yeah. We just wanted to test my blood.”

“Test your blood,” Bruce repeats, his voice dry. “Of course. That’s every teenager’s big hobby.”

“Every teenager doesn’t have radioactive blood,” Tony points out.

“Did it occur to you to _ask?_ I need that blood sample for research, so I’ll know what medication to give this kid if he ever needs it!”

“You can always get more samples,” Peter suggest, pointing his thumb at himself.

“I have a better idea,” Bruce says, shaking his head with a slight smile. “I was planning on doing some research on those samples this week, anyway. So why doesn’t Peter give me a hand with that? We’ll do it right now.”

Peter nods. That sounds like a plan. He can still do the research, but without getting in Tony’s hair.

Tony looks a little put out, however. “What about me?”

“You can take a nap,” Peter suggests. “Recover from the unbearable stress of being locked in a room with me for an hour.”

“I didn’t _mind_ …” Tony weakly protests.

“You said I was giving you a headache,” Peter reminds him.

“Well _…_ Well, I’m feeling better.”

“Tony, don’t worry,” Peter tells him. “You don’t have to babysit me anymore. Bruce will help me.”

Tony opens and closes his mouth a few times, looking frustrated for some reason.

Pepper pinches his upper arm, looking amused. “Tony, just admit to the kid that you want to spend time with him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tony mulishly announces. “But – ah – you know, I feel like I should also have a good grasp of Peter’s physiology. Might come in handy. So I’ll just join you, shall I?” He puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

Peter smiles. “Nice. I promise I won’t flick any light switches!” He turns. “So I guess we’ll be needing this thing?”

“Peter, no don’t TOUCH MY MICROSCOPES!”


	3. Apple slices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony 'dads Peter to death in front of his classmates'. [Prompt by meganseverafter]
> 
> [btw I'll put summary & any specific tags at the beginning of each story, so if any story is not up your alley, you can skip it. I'll also put a list of all the stories under ch1]

“Tony – you don’t need to come down here. There’s nothing going on.”

“Save it, kid. The last time you were in DC for your little decathlon thingy, one of our nation’s most recognizable landmarks almost collapsed entirely.”

“You mean one elevator broke down?” Peter suggested, lifting his phone a little so he could see Tony better.

“Potato, potahto,” Tony said dismissively. “I’m already on my way.”

“But we’re driving home straight after the finals, so we’re not even visiting any monuments this time.”

“Perfect. You can drive back with me! When do the finals start?”

“In an hour, but-“

“See you then!” And Tony hung up.

With a few muttered swear words, Peter lowered his phone and looked across the room at Ned. They were still in their hotel room, but had been just about ready to leave for the venue when the call came in, and now Ned looked simultaneously ecstatic and terrified. “Oh god,” he breathed. “Oh god, Mr. Stark is going to be in the audience? I don’t know if I can handle that sort of pressure.”

Peter rolled his eyes, frantically tapping at his phone to send Tony a message.

_Okay, fine, I’ll let you come to DC, but no one needs to find out that we know each other, right?_

-

Tony looked down at the message he had received from Peter, and scoffed. Oh, Peter would _let him_ come to DC? How magnanimous of him. He could feel his urge to screw with his mentee reach new levels of evil.

 _But Pete_ , he texted back, _if no one can find out that I know you, what am I supposed to do with this giant ‘Peter is the smartiest’ banner that I brought with me?_

“What are you doing?” Happy asked in a wary tone, glancing in the rearview mirror.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because you have that ‘I want to watch the world burn’-expression on you face.”

“Accurate,” Tony murmured. “Can we make a pitstop? I need to buy some apples.”

-

Peter supposed he should be relieved that Tony didn’t _actually_ hold up a banner during the decathlon. But he mostly felt apprehensive. His eyes kept wandering to both Tony and Happy who were sitting in the backrow, eagerly looking on. No one else – apart from Ned of course – had noticed the two men.

Yet.

“To whom is the discovery of the nuclear atom attributed?”

“How many whole numbers are there between the real numbers 4.27 and 19.82?”

“What is the characteristic color of the flame test for potassium?”

Peter could feel Ned practically quaking in his seat. Thankfully his friend was still able to answer the questions when necessary, albeit a little breathlessly. Peter himself was torn between his constant need to impress Tony on the one hand, and his annoyance at the very same Tony on the other hand.

His hand shot towards the buzzer again. “A Heterogeneous catalyst.”

“That is correct! Midtown Tech wins and prolongs their title!”

Peter blinked. He hadn’t even realized they had gotten to the last question. While his teammates cheered and MJ planted a kiss on his cheek, Peter felt his heartbeat speed up, keeping his gaze fixed on Tony to make sure the man wasn’t getting any funny ideas to set off a confetti cannon or something.

Tony was merely smirking back at him like a satisfied cat.

-

Tony pushed his way through a small crowd of people to reach Peter and the rest of the team.

He could clearly see the exact moment Peter noticed him approaching. The boy ducked his head between his shoulders and hid behind Ned.

Another student noticed him too, now, her eyes widening. “Is that – are you Tony Stark?”

“No, he isn’t.”

“Wait, are you?”

“Is he?”

Instead of answering, Tony slid his sunglasses down his nose and merely glanced at them.

“He _is!_ ” The students immediately crowed.

“I’m looking for Peter Parker,” Tony said. “Anyone seen him?”

“Oh yes, right here!” Ned said, stepping aside, completely oblivious to his friend’s attempts to become invisible.

Peter turned a little red as he straightened himself. “ _What?_ ” He snapped.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said to the group, adopting his most fatherly tones. “But I had to come and bring Peter his fruit snack. He didn’t have his two pieces of fruit today, even though he knows he is supposed to. There you go, Petey-boy!”

He held the Tupperware box out to Peter with an innocent smile plastered onto his face. Peter had turned bright red and was gaping back at him – much like his classmates, for that matter.

“I cut it in slices for you,” Tony continued, shaking the plastic container a little as if trying to lure an animal closer. “Just the way you like it!”

Peter looked absolutely mortified and snatched the box from Tony’s hands. “What are you doing?”

“What… what…” one of the other students stammered.

“Can I trust you all to keep a secret?” Tony asked, reaching out and wrapping one arm firmly around Peter. “This kid is my illegitimate son. His mother is a Scandinavian princess whose name must not be exposed. We’re talking state secrets of the _highest_ \- level of security.”

He looked at the group of gaping teenagers staring back at him, and couldn’t hold back a grin. “PSYCHE!” He hollered, chortling gleefully. “Jeez – your faces. Wish I could have taken a picture. We’re not related, he’s just my intern. Aaah - Teenagers are gullible. C’mon Pete, say goodbye, and I’ll drive you home.”

And he strolled off.

-

About ten minutes later, Peter joined him by the car, looking incredibly frustrated. “Do you know what you just did to me?” He hissed, zipping up his jacket.

“What? I told them in the end you are just my intern, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, ‘just your intern’ is still a freaking miracle to most of my classmates,” Peter pointed out. “Did you forget who you are? Also, what boss drives to DC to bring his intern apple slices?”

“The kind who likes to mess with his employees?” Tony suggested.

“Mess with his employee’s classmates, more like,” Peter muttered. “You pretty much gave Flash a heart attack. Not that he doesn’t deserve it.”

“Come sit in the car,” Tony said. “We need to talk.”

Peter shot him a questioning look.

“ _Come on_ ,” Tony insisted, stepping in.

He waited for Peter to crawl in the back with him and pull the door shut. “Why don’t you want people to know you work for me?” He then asked. “Isn’t it something to be proud of?”

Peter started to say something, but faltered. “I don’t know,” he finally said, slowly. “I guess I never told people because I knew they wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“Well, I’m here now, so they’ll have to believe you, right?”

“I guess…”

“So, what’s the problem?”

Peter stared down at the box of apple slices he was still holding. “I don’t know. Probably because I knew you would embarrass me, which you _did,_ so don’t get all defensive. But I also don’t like that you didn’t trust me to handle myself on a stupid, simple school trip. What did you think would happen? An alien attack?”

Tony shook his head. “I didn’t think anything was going to happen. Of course I didn’t. I… Pete… It has nothing to do with trust. I just wanted to see you win the decathlon.”

Peter frowned in contemplation. “Why?”

“Because. Because you’re _not_ just my intern. You’re…” he wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. But Peter was looking up at him with an expectant expression.

“You’re a kid I really care about,” he finished finally.

Peter smiled. It stayed quiet for a little while.

“Can Ned drive home with us?” Peter then asked.

“Does he like apple slices?”

“I guess…”

“Then he’s welcome,” Tony said, leaning forward.

“I’ve got it – let me,” Peter said, reaching for the door handle.

“I wasn’t getting the door,” Tony drawled. “I was going for a hug. But suit yourself.”

Peter let out a breathy laugh, before leaning in and wrapping his arms around Tony. “Thank you for coming,” he murmured.

“You’re welcome. Now, how about we go in there together, scare your classmates a bit more and then get Ned out of there?”

Peter’s eyes glinted up with mischief. “Sounds good.”


	4. Oatmeal cookies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Peter is first introduced to the Avengers, he has every reason to be shy and awkward. But he gets over it. Quickly. [Prompt by FujoshiNekoOwO]
> 
> tags: Avengers Family fluff.

The living room was calm and quiet. Each Avenger was absorbed by their own activity. Pepper and Wanda were both reading a book. Steve read the newspaper, a tiny frown in place. Bruce was compulsively biting his nails as he wrote out equations. And Natasha was… well, she had been sitting upright in an armchair with her eyes closed for almost half an hour now, and no one dared disturb her.

“FRIDAY, cue the music,” a voice suddenly boomed, and the next moment, a bombastic ‘ride of the valkyries’ filled the air.

Natasha’s eyes flew open, a disgruntled look on her face, and she turned towards Tony Stark, who had appeared next to the elevator. Before she could open her mouth and ask him what the hell he was up to, Tony continued:

“He’s the youngest superhero mankind has ever seen. He can climb to the top of the Empire State Building in half a minute. He can stop a bus with his bare hands. He can outrun a car. It’s the one, the only SPIDER-MAAAAAAN!”

_ding_

The elevator doors slid open and a slender teenager with messy brown curls stepped out, immediately looking taken aback at all eyes being on him. “Um, hi?”

“Hi, Peter,” Pepper said, warmly. “How was school today?”

“Fine,” the boy said, timidly. “What’s going on? What’s with the music?”

“I gave you an introduction,” Tony explained.

Peter looked concerned. “A – a what now?”

Tony waved a hand. “FIRDAY, that’s enough with the music.”

The music stopped as suddenly as it had started, and the room was quiet again. Tony put both hands on Peter’s shoulder and steered him closer to the group of Avengers. “You said you wanted me to introduce you, didn’t you?”

“Well – well, yes, but…”

“So here he is!” Tony announced, clapping Peter on the shoulder. “Peter Parker, AKA the amazing Spider-Man, you’ve all seen him in action. He could take all of you, hands down. No contest. Anyone want to try? Romanoff, Rogers?”

“Tony!” Peter protested, his cheeks coloring red.

“Tony,” Natasha said, “with all due respect – what the hell are you talking about?”

“Spider-Man, Romanoff, _Spider-Man_ ,” Tony said impatiently. “You know, he has been supporting the team on about a hundred different missions this past year. Red and blue onesie? Shoots webs? Any of that ring a bell?”

Natasha narrowed her eyes, her gaze slowly drifting from Tony to the nervous teenager standing beside him.

“Um,” Peter said, taking off his backpack. “Hi. I’m Peter. I baked cookies with my aunt yesterday.” He reached into his backpack, taking out a cookie jar. “They’re oatmeal with hazelnut.”

“Oooh, I love oatmeal cookies,” Natasha said, her face clearing up. “The way to a woman's heart is through her stomach.”

The others chuckled, and the tension evaporated from the air.

“Have a seat, honey,” Pepper said. “Tony will go make us all some tea – won’t you, Tony?”

“Oh, sure,” Tony huffed. “I can take a hint.” And he disappeared towards the kitchen.

“I did _not_ ask him to do all that,” Peter stressed, as he shuffled closer to Pepper and took a seat next to her.

“Of course not,” Bruce said. “Tony only does things he’s not asked to do, and never does anything he _is_ asked to do.”

Peter smiled. “Seems about right,” he muttered. “Well – I just wanted to say hi. And, uh, it’s really cool to meet you all and work with you. I’m ready to support the team, um, I hope you don’t mind I’m a little young.”

“No offense, but that was pretty obvious already, son,” Steve told him.

Peter looked confused. “Really?”

“Yes, _full offence_ , but you sound like a minion when you talk,” Natasha added, and Peter flushed a bright red.

“What is a minion?” Steve unhelpfully asked.

“Minions are small, yellow creatures that appear in the ‘despicable me’ franchise and are characterized by their childlike, intelligible speech.” FRIDAY informed him.

“Oh, I see,” Steve said, although his face clearly said that he didn’t.

“We’ll watch it at our next movie night,” Wanda suggested, and Peter looked up eagerly. “You guys do movie nights?”

“It’s a mandatory part of Steve’s integration course,” Natasha teased, poking Steve with her foot.

“Can I join?”

“I don’t know, yet,” Natasha said. “Why don’t you give me cookie, and then see how I feel?”

Peter quickly opened the cookie jar.

-

“Drumroll please! Because he just entered the building again. Here to save the day once again! The one, the only SP-“

“Tony, knock that off, you’re embarrassing the kid,” Bruce said. “He’s shy.”

Tony looked around at the other Avengers, who all nodded in agreement. “What? No, he isn’t. That’s just an act, man. Sure, he’s a teenager, so he is ninety percent awkward limbs and ten percent awkward everything else. But he’s also a rambling maniac.”

“Are you talking about me?”

Tony jumped and turned. “Kid! You came out of nowhere.”

“I took the stairs,” Peter said, dumping his backpack in a corner. “I didn’t want you to make a scene again.”

“Did you bring cookies?” Natasha asked, and Peter chuckled. “Yeah. Oatmeal and chocolate.”

“Then you may enter. We’re just waiting for Steve to come down and then we’ll start.”

A large screen had been projected onto one of the walls and all the couches were pushed in a wide semi-circle around it. Peter shuffled past Sam and Pepper to sit on the floor next to Wanda. “That’s perfect. I brought something funny – can I show you?”

“Cookies first,” Natasha demanded.

Peter rolled his eyes, but he did pass her a fresh jar of cookies, before taking out his phone and tapping at the screen to connect it to the projector.

“What is this?” Bruce asked, recognizing the figure who popped up on the screen.

“ _This_ ,” Peter said, “is what I have to watch at school pretty much every day.” And he hit ‘play’.

_“Hi. I’m Captain America. And I’m here to talk to you about one of the most important weapons in any soldier’s arsenal… MATH.”_

“Oh, good god,” Tony breathed. “I think I just died and went to heaven.”

-

And that’s how Steve found them when he arrived in the living room: huddled around the screen, listening with rapt attention to a lecture about healthy and balanced diets. Peter sitting in the center, laughing loudest of all, any trace of shyness and awkwardness completely gone.

“Oh, hey Rogers,” Tony said when he noticed him. “Come watch this idiot making a fool of himself.”

“What are you doing?”

“Learning about the importance of eating breakfast,” Tony said.

“Where did you find those?”

Tony immediately pointed at Peter, who only looked somewhat apologetic. “Well, what’s the point of making PSA’s if no one sees them?” The kid argued.

“Exactly. He just wanted to help us make responsible decisions,” Natasha added, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled.

Steve shook his head at her. “You were supposed to always have my back! I can’t believe you’re defending him.”

“Bake me oatmeal cookies,” Natasha shot back. “Then I’ll take your side.”


	5. Who knows?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter knows that Midtown High knows he's Spider-Man but pretends he doesn't know they know. [prompt by JuSt_AnOth3r_N3rd -- and also, possibly, inspired by that one Friends episode]
> 
> Additional Tag: Peter/MJ relationship hinting

“Ugh… stupid Betty…”

Tony looks up at Peter who is sitting cross-legged on the ceiling, browsing through his phone.

“Lady trouble, kid?”

“Someone just made a joke about Spider-Man in our classmates’ group chat,” Peter murmurs. “I think she wants to see how I’ll react to it.”

Tony sets his laptop aside, frowning. “What do you mean? Does she suspect you’re Spider-Man?”

“Oh, she _knows_ I’m Spider-Man. Actually, my classmates all know,” Peter says. “But they don’t know that I know that they know, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“What? Why?”

“Because if they know that I know that they know, they’ll want to talk about it, but as long as they think I don’t know that they know, and that I would be upset if I knew that they knew, they avoid the topic. You see?”

“No,” Tony says. “No, I don’t see. Those were the ramblings of a madman. What are you talking about?”

A rustling noise, and a moment later Peter is dangling from the ceiling upside down, his eyes at the same level as Tony’s, his phone still in his hand. “They know I’m Spider-Man, but they’ve agreed not to tell me _that_ they know,” Peter explains again as he slowly swings from side to side. “Which is good, because it means they also won’t bother me with annoying question. But if they find out that I already know that they know, they’ll think that it’s okay to openly talk about it.”

“But how do you know all that, if they haven’t talked to you about it?”

“Because I hacked their group app,” Peter says, as if it’s the most logical thing in the world. “They’re all in a group app that is literally called ‘classmates except Peter’ where they get together and gossip about me. How rude is that?”

“Let me get this straight,” Tony says, pressing his fingers against his forehead. “Your classmates know that you’re Spider-Man, but they agreed not to tell you that they know, but you found out anyway, but you don’t want them to know you found out, because you don’t want to talk to them about it, but you _do_ want to read everything they say about you behind your back?”

“That was surprisingly accurate,” Peter replies, nodding.

“My god… teenage logic,” Tony groans. “How do you people even function?”

“It actually works pretty good, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Uhuh. Wanna share with me _how_ your whole school found out that you’re Spider-Man?”

“It’s just my class. And I’m not sure. For the longest time they just thought I was a male escort. They spent a _lot_ of time speculating about that, sending each other memes about it and stuff… It was low key hilarious.”

Tony shakes his head, exasperated. “What about Ned?”

Peter turns his screen towards Tony. “Oh, he’s still trying to convince everyone that I simply get sudden, random allergy attacks. It’s a feeble lie. But he means well.”

Tony sees a message from Ned flash by. _Guys, I swear I think it’s just pollen!_

-

“MJ, I’m _telling_ you,” Ned insists, jogging to keep up with MJ and her darned long legs as she ascends the stairs towards their biology classroom. “He keeps getting these watery eyes. It’s just something in the air, I suppose.”

“Ned, don’t bother,” she replies with an eyeroll. “Look – if you want to keep up the farce in front of Flash and co, that’s fine. They’re only half-serious about all this stuff, anyways. But Betty and I _know what’s up_. Don’t insult our intelligence.”

“Hey, I’m smarter than you! And if Peter knew about all the crap people were writing-“

“Oh, he knows,” MJ interrupts lightly as she keeps marching down the hallway. “And he knows that we know. He just doesn’t know that I know that he knows that we know.”

“What?”

“Yes, and we shouldn’t tell him. Because he clearly doesn’t want to talk about it. Which is fine, he deserves some privacy. No pressure. So, you can’t tell him that I know that he knows that we know, all right?”

“I don’t even understand what you’re saying,” Ned yells, frustrated.

“Thought you were smarter than me?” She shoots back, finally halting in her steps and crossing her arms.

Ned leans against a wall to catch his breath. “Yes but I don’t _speak your language_!”

“You and everyone I’ve ever met,” she sighs. “Just… don’t tell Peter. This conversation never happened.” And she takes off.

“Then why am I so out of breath?” Ned shouts after her.

-

“I think MJ knows you’re Spider-Man, dude,” Ned says, concerned, pacing the hallway.

Peter waves a hand at him as he digs through his locker. “I know. It’s no big deal. Just as long as she doesn’t know that I know.”

“I think she _does_ though,” Ned says, worrying his bottom lip. “She said something cryptic about it. Something about what you know and what she knows and just generally a lot of knowing.”

Peter looks up, now slightly more alarmed. “What do you mean? Does she know that I know about the whole group app?”

“I think so. But then she said ‘this conversation never happened’ like she’s working for the freaking KGB or something.”

“Okay, _that_ conversation never _did_ happen,” Peter hisses, grabbing Ned by the shoulder. “And neither did this one, okay? You told me _nothing_. We need to keep up appearances that I don’t know that she knows that I know that she knows.”

“Wow,” Ned says. “I can’t believe it. You speak ‘MJ’.”

-

Peter returns home that afternoon to find Tony and Ned in the living area, gazing at him with somber, serious expressions. “What’s wrong?”

“This is an intervention, kiddo,” Tony says. “I speak on behalf of both of us when I say: We can’t stand idly by and watch you ruin your life.”

“I’m sorry – what?”

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” Tony continues. “Ned and I joined forces. We hacked your phone and sent a message to MJ, telling her that you are Spider-Man and inviting her out for a little swinging session around the city.”

“You did WHAT now?”

“It’s not like that changes anything!” Ned snaps. “You both know what’s going on, you just refuse to talk about it. And I’m tired of listening to my friends saying stuff I don’t understand! I get enough of that from our teachers!”

“But – I – what?”

“You told MJ you’d meet her outside Delmar’s shop at half past four. If you leave now, you won’t be late.”

Peter stares at them, frozen, for a few more seconds. Then, the color finally returns to his face. “Okay, see you later I guess!” He blurts out, before rushing to the door.

“Be a gentleman!” Tony shouts after him.

A silence descends.

Ned stretches out in his chair, a satisfied look on his face. “Pssht.” he says, barely able to hide his glee. “And those two think they’re smarter than me.”


	6. ignorance is bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Spider-Man's identity is a really badly kept secret [prompt by PotterinPakistan]

Bruce descends the stairs towards Tony’s workshop, carrying a test tube and a stack of papers.

The only person there is Tony’s intern, the kid with the science shirts whose name Bruce keeps forgetting.

“Hey,” Bruce says, placing the stack of papers on one of the tables. “Is Tony around?”

“No, he’s in a meeting. Maybe I can help?”

“I don’t know. I don’t suppose you know anything about Spider-Man’s web shooters?”

“Did you research them?” The kid immediately asks, sounding eager.

Bruce holds up the test tube. “Just the web fluid.”

“Can I see? What are your findings?”

“Um…” Bruce hesitates as he carefully sets the test tube down on top of the stack of papers. He knows that Tony trusts this kid. A bit too much, as far as he’s concerned. He’s not sure if he’s willing to do the same.

“Have you found a way to naturally dissolve it faster? I’ve always found an hour a bit too long.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “You know an awful lot about this substance, kid.”

The boy holds up the test tube. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says.

-

Vision looks up from his work when Tony’s intern Peter enters the living room, carrying the bunched-up Spider-suit in his arms.

“Hello, Peter.”

“Morning, Vision,” he greets back politely, sitting on the couch and taking out his laptop, connecting it to the suit. “What are you doing?”

“Organizing the book case,” Vision says. “The books aren’t organized properly, and it has been driving me absolutely insane for weeks now. How about you?”

“Just looking into Karen.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Karen,” Peter repeats, “That’s what I call the AI in Spider-Man’s suit. I’m looking into it for him.”

“I see. I thought Tony came up with that name. I had been wondering what insane acronym it actually was.”

Peter shakes his head. “I just liked the name. And I like her, so I thought she should have a nice name.”

“You’re aware that it’s not an actual person, right?”

“I don’t know,” Peter says. “ _You’re_ a real person.”

“Am I?” Vision asks as he meticulously lines the spines of the books up, exactly one inch from the front edge of the shelf.

“Yeah, you are. And Karen is like that. But I’m pretty sure Mr. Stark doesn’t even know I named her that,” Peter murmurs.

“That’s curious,” Vision says, “Because I’m fairly certain I heard Spider-Man refer to her with that exact name.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Peter says.

-

The team converges on a street corner, between a toppled-over city bus and a collapsed hotdog stand. Sirens are wailing in the distance.

Just another Saturday afternoon.

But this time, things are different. Because Captain America doesn’t just wave his goodbyes to Spider-Man as usual, but instead extends an invitation: “Thanks for your great help, once again. Will you join us for shoarma?”

Spider-Man is clearly taken by surprise, but then quickly shakes his head. “Sorry guys, I have to protect my identity.”

A short silence descends.

“Right,” Natasha says. “Right, your identity.”

“Gotta be careful about that,” Sam says, nodding along. “I mean, imagine if we knew who you really were. We’d just be teasing you about it nonstop.”

“Are you sure, kid?” Steve asks, waving at the others to shut up. “We know a really good shoarma place.”

“I don’t have time, anyways,” Spider-Man says, scratching his head. “Gotta finish my report on the civil war.”

“That’s funny,” Steve says. “I could have lent you some books, but I just gave them to Tony’s intern yesterday. He’s doing a report on the same subject.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Spider-Man says, and he fires his web up at a lamppost, pulling himself up into the air and swinging up towards the clouds.


	7. Birthday tradition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers have a special birthday tradition, and Peter is about to find out. [prompt by Comet_in_the_sky]
> 
> This is a ‘good publicity’ sequel. You can read that first if you haven’t yet! Actually, it takes place between chapter 5 and 6 of that work.

Tony looked up when Steve returned to the living area. “Was he asleep?”

“Yeah…” Steve said, a strangely elated look on his face.

Tony glanced at him over the rim of his tablet. “What’s with the dopey smile?”

“He said he’d be down in a minute!” Steve breathed, looking as if today was _his_ birthday instead.

“And you’re taking it _very_ well.”

“He’s never spoken more than two words at a time to me. This was an actual sentence!”

Tony smiled. It was just like Steve to get excited about something like that. “You didn’t fawn all over him, did you? You know what Sam told us, if he feels like we make a big deal about him talking, it will just take him longer to actually start doing it.”

“I acted perfectly natural, Stark,” Steve informed him, slightly lifting his chin.

The Avengers had all gathered in the living area for their usual birthday tradition. This was the first time Peter would be joining in. Unfortunately, Tony had sort of forgotten that Peter would already be asleep around this time, until Peter had said his normal “good nights” around eleven.

Peter padded into the room, barefoot, his hair standing up a little, his eyes bleary. Tony glanced him up and down with a smirk. “Did Steve wake you up?”

Peter nodded, looking slightly disgruntled.

“Well, what did you expect? It’s your birthday!”

Peter gave him a puzzled look. “Tomorrow,” he said.

“Na-ah,” Tony said, looking down at his watch. “It is currently 11:57 PM, and in exactly three minutes, you’d better expect the party to get started.”

Peter looked suddenly unnerved, his eyes darting from one Avenger to the other, and Tony remembered how the boy had specifically requested a quiet birthday with nothing overwhelming.

“That was a figure of speech,” he quickly added. “We just want to mark the occasion. That’s what we always do. It’s just that most of us don’t go to bed before midnight, so I hope you don’t mind we had to wake you up for this.”

He stood from his chair and leaned down to grab his slippers. “Put those on. We’re going on the balcony, you’ll be cold.” He also unzipped his own sweater vest to put it around the boy’s shoulders.

The other Avengers rose from their seats, too, following them to the large balcony. The sky was clear, although the lights from the city outshone the stars. It was a warm summer evening, but the wind made it somewhat chilly, causing Peter to pull the vest a little tighter around himself.

“We don’t come out here often enough,” Clint lamented. “Look at that view!”

“Oh, yes,” Natasha said. “And do you smell those exhaust fumes? Lovely.”

“Point taken.”

Pepper stepped outside, too, carrying a blue and red Chinese lantern. She turned it towards Peter to show him the words ‘Happy Birthday Peter’, that were written on it. “Spider-Man colors! We’ll set it afloat at midnight.”

Peter smiled, reaching out to carefully feel the ribbons attached to the lantern. “I approve,” he said.

Pepper chuckled.

“It is now exactly twelve PM,” Vision informed them, sounding more than ever like the AI he was. His statement met cheers from the Avengers.

“Happy birthday, honey,” Pepper said, dropping a kiss into Peter’s brown locks.

As the others lined up to hug Peter, Tony took the Chinese lantern and lit a tiny flame inside it. “Here we go!” He announced, holding the lantern out. “To a happy birthday, and many happy returns.”

“Hear, hear,” Vision said.

Tony released the lantern and stepped back to look at Peter’s face as the boy stood there, drowning in Tony’s far too big sweater vest, watching the lantern float away.

“Nice tradition,” Peter finally murmured once the lantern was only a tiny dot against the night sky. He then yawned widely, covering his mouth with his oversized sleeve.

Tony chuckled. “Yes, it is, isn’t it? I’m just sorry we had to wake you up.”

Peter smiled, now. “I’m not.”

“We’ll continue the party tomorrow,” Pepper promised, putting both her hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Shall I tuck you in?”

Peter scoffed a little – but he didn’t protest.

“Happy birthday Pete,” Natasha repeated. “Now, sweet dreams.”

Tony nodded. “We’ll see you tomorrow for your birthday breakfast. Any special requests?”

“Caviar,” Peter said with his usual mischievous smile in place.

“Careful what you wish for there, kid,” Sam warned him. “You know he’ll actually go and get it.”

“Right,” Peter murmured. “Maybe just pancakes.”

And after a final, tiny wave at everyone, he shuffled back inside with Pepper. He took Tony’s vest and slippers with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'll be gone for most of tomorrow so I don't know if I'll be uploading anything)


	8. Grandpa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron-granddad is looking after Peter's daughter for the day. [prompt by KendraDhyanna]
> 
> tags: Peter/MJ relationship, Grandad!Tony and Adult!Peter

“My goodness, _what_ is coming out of this creature’s body?”

Peter scowled at Tony as he reached for a clean diaper. “That’s what baby poop looks like, Tony. Are you sure you can handle this?”

Tony scoffed. “Please. I’ll have Dum-E programmed to change a diaper in less than a minute.”

Peter looked slightly unnerved. “Tony – _please_ promise me you won’t leave my daughter alone with one of your idiot contraptions.”

“Excuse me very much? You wanna say that to Dum-E’s face?”

“He doesn’t have a face.”

“He has an _interface_ ,” Tony emphasized. “And his feelings can get hurt!”

“I’m about to hurt _you_ in the interface if you don’t stop screwing with me,” Peter told him, carefully picking up little Reilly and depositing her into Tony’s arm. “I’m going to get rid of that diaper. Can I count on you to keep her alive until I get back, grandpa?”

Tony gave an indignant squeak. When Reilly had been born, he had explicitly instructed Peter that under _no_ circumstances was anyone allowed to refer to him as a grandpa. Because he was young and vital, darn it!

“Come here Reilly,” Tony said, bouncing the giggling girl up and down. “Let’s you and I work together to come up with a plan to get rid of your daddy.”

Peter merely huffed before leaving the room.

Tony slowly moved to the couch and sat down, putting the little girl on his knee. Reilly was almost eighteen months old, and this was the first time that Peter was leaving her at the compound while Pepper wasn’t here. Tony understood that this made Peter slightly nervous. Hell, he was slightly nervous himself. Whenever they were babysitting, Pepper always took care of the feeding and the pooping. Tony was in charge of blowing raspberries and dancing around the living room and the occasional attempt at building a tower. Now, he had to step up.

Reilly seemed to be sharing the same concerns, looking back at him with a teeny-tiny frown on her face.

“This,” she said firmly, pointing at the pile of books on the table in front of them. ‘This’ had been the very first word that Reilly had learned, and it had been frequently used since then.

“You want to read a book?” Tony asked, picking one and holding it up in front of her.

“This,” Reilly said in confirmation, grabbing at the book and opening it. “This!”

“Yes, yes, I got you. You sit up here and – now, listen, young lady, I can’t read to you if you start flipping the pages like a madman.”

“This!”

“Yes, I’m trying. All right, let’s see, ‘There once was a Little Red Hen’…”

“All right,” Peter said, barging in again. “I have ten minutes before I _absolutely_ need to leave. Do you need another crash course in changing diapers? Clean diapers are in her bag over there, and I put some carrots in the fridge. You can boil those for her. Um – she eats bread, too. And she really likes eggs. She doesn’t generally nap during the day anymore, but if you feel like she’s getting tired-“

“Pete, we’ll be fine,” Tony interrupted. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Call me if you have questions,” Peter said, hoisting his own bag over his shoulder.

“I’m sure that’ll go over well, when you’re in the middle of a job interview.”

“Fine,” Peter muttered. “Call MJ. Or Pepper.”

Tony held Reilly up to him. “Say ‘good luck’ to Daddy, Reilly!”

“This!”

Peter leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek. “Bye bye, honey! Be nice to grandpa!”

“How many times did I tell you- Get out of here, you!”

Peter rushed from the room, chortling.

-

Tony filled up Reilly’s bottle with lukewarm water. So far, so good. He had just successfully changed his first ever diaper, and now he felt more like a Super-Hero than ever. He returned to the living room. Reilly was sitting on the rug in the middle of the room, meticulously stuffing toys into one of Tony’s shoes. Tony chuckled a little as he stepped closer.

“Grampa,” Reilly said, as soon as she laid eyes on him.

Tony froze, almost dropping the bottle from his hands. “What?”

“Grampa, this!” Reilly crowed, reaching a chubby hand out towards him.

“Yeah, yeah, you want your bottle, right?” Tony stepped closer and crouched down next to her, handing her the bottle. She could hold it herself, lifting it up to take a long sip.

“Someone was thirsty,” Tony said when she finally put the bottle down again. He sat on the floor next to her, his legs crossed, laying a hand against his own chest. “Reilly, who am I? Who am I?”

“Grampa!” Reilly declared without hesitation.

“Such a smart girl!” Tony exclaimed, clapping his hands together. She imitated his behavior, clapping her tiny hands as she gurgled happily.

“Now, let’s try and not completely destroy grandpa’s shoes, okay? How about we break something of your dad’s, instead? That’ll teach him to respect his elders.”

“This,” Reilly said, only becoming more frantic in trying to stuff more of her toys into Tony’s left shoe that was already creaking at the seams.

“You know, your daddy is one of the smartest people in the world. But does he come and work for me? No. Does he work for NASA? No. He wants to teach a damn high school.”

“Baaaah,” Reilly said, holding up a tiny, wooden sheep.

“That’s right, good job! What about this one?” He held up a cow.

“Moooo.”

“Yes! And this one?” He held up a pig.

“Grampa.”

“Yeah, you take after your dad.”

-

Peter returned just as Tony was reading Reilly the story of the little red hen, interrupting him once again.

“Did you get the job?”

Peter shrugged as he dropped his bag to the floor. “They’re calling me tomorrow.”

“They’d be idiots not to take you. But you’re also an idiot for even applying.”

Peter sat on the couch with them, reaching out to tickle Reilly. “I like working with kids.”

“Those aren’t kids you’ll be working with. They’re hormone-infested, narcissistic, awkward, lazy-“

“You mean like I was when you met me?” Peter cut in, his eyebrows raised slightly.

“ _Exactly_ like that, yes,” Tony confirmed.

“So, no temper tantrums?”

“She was lovely.”

“I meant from you,” Peter said, a smile tugging at his lips.

Tony huffed, but there were more important things right now than telling Peter off. “Listen to this,” he said, setting Reilly down on his knee so she faced him. “Reilly, who am I? Who am I?”

“Grampa.”

“Hear that!” Tony exclaimed. “Did you hear that?”

“Oh, it’s okay when _she_ says it?” Peter drawled.

Tony wobbled his knee up and down, making Reilly giggle as she bounced. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Are you staying for dinner?”

Peter blinked. “Oh. Well, sure. If it’s no bother. MJ won’t be home until late, anyways.”

“It’s never a bother,” Tony replied. “And if you’re nice to me, I’ll even let you have some dessert.”

“All right, grandpa.”


	9. A slice of pie with a side of bad news

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 'rogues' return to the compound, and Peter knows _just_ how to deal with it. [prompt by Maya_Di_Angelo and NervousOwl].
> 
> No character bashing, though! And I mostly left Bucky on the side lines because that whole can of worms is too big to open in one short story…

Tony unlocks the car doors when he sees Peter step out the gates of his high school.

“Hey Happy,” the kid says as he crawls into the back, fumbling with his bag.

“It’s me.”

“Oh – oh, hey Mr. Stark! You never pick me up!”

“First time for everything. Wanna go out for some pie? I know a great place.”

Peter looks at him, for a moment completely stunned, but then a smile breaks through on his face. “Yeah, cool!”

Tony drives them to a quiet coffee bar in one of the suburbs.

“Is this, like, a special occasion?” Peter asks as they sink down in a corner booth.

“More or less. I wanted to let you know that you should probably steer clear of the compound for… let’s give it two weeks.”

“Why, are you fumigating the whole place for termites?” Peter jokes.

Tony manages a slight smile. “I’m expecting some new ‘roomies’. And things will be tense for a few days as everyone gets settled.”

“Who?”

“I managed to convince the government to pardon our formerly fugitive Avenger friends. The only way they would agree with it, is if I moved them into my compound to ‘keep an eye on them’.”

“All of them?”

“Four of them,” Tony replies, massaging his painful shoulder. His old injury always plays up up when he is under stress. “Barton and Lang are going back to their families. Where they should have stayed in the first place, those idiots.”

“So Captain America is coming?” Peter asks, his face lighting up.

Tony merely grumbles.

“And… who else. The bird guy?”

“Maximoff, Wilson and _Barnes_ ,” Tony says, practically spitting out that last name.

“Oh – is he the guy I fought at the airport? He had a metal arm!”

“Yes, and while that is everything I look for in a friend,” Tony drawls, “I’m still less than thrilled about having him back in my compound.”

Peter bites his bottom lip. “Do you think he’s mad at me?”

“Mad at you,” Tony repeats, dead-pan.

“Yeah. Because I webbed him to the ground and stuff.”

“I’m sure he gave it as good as he got,” Tony bites out.

“Why are you so mad at him? I thought it wasn’t actually him who bombed the UN?”

Ton sighs, running a hand across his face. “It’s… not your concern, kid.”

“I mean, if anything you should be mad at Captain America.”

“Oh, trust me kid, I am.”

“Maybe I can mediate?” Peter suggests, perking up.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah. You know, when I fought him at the airport, I felt like he and I had a bit of a moment.”

“Shall I prepare a room for you both?” Tony drawls.

“I just mean I think he liked me.”

“Everyone likes you, kid,” Tony murmurs. “It’s impossible not to.”

“So, let me come to the compound!” Peter insists.

Tony mulls it over for a moment. In a way, the kid has a point. He has a natural _vibe_ to him that brings out the nice in everyone. Having him at the compound when the others arrive, will probably keep everyone from going at each other’s throats.

“What the hell, you can come,” he says.

-

When Steve enters the compound, followed by a wary Sam, Bucky and Wanda, he is not met by Tony as he was expecting, but by Pepper and some teenager with an eager expression on his face.

“Good to see you,” he says as he shakes her hand. She nods, her eyes warm as always, but also with a hint of disappointment as she looks at him.

“Hey,” the teen says, sounding a little breathless. “Captain America, nice to meet you again.”

“Have we met?”

“Um, yeah,” the boy replies, looking nervous. “Berlin airport. I stole your shield. No hard feelings?”

Steve cocks his head. “Queens?”

“Yeah! Yeah – I mean, no, my name is Peter. But, yes.”

“Good to meet you, son,” Steve says, before turning back to Pepper. “Where is Stark?”

“In his workshop,” Pepper says. “I didn’t think it would be wise for him to meet you all at once. Why don’t you go talk to him?”

Steve nods and, after a final glance at the other three, makes his way down the stairs. He follows the sound of AC/DC until he reaches Tony’s workshop. The man isn’t at work, but sits in a chair facing the entrance. As soon as Steve enters, Tony cuts the music.

“Morning, Tony.”

“Yeah.”

Steve starts slowly circling the workshop. “It’s good to see you.”

No response to that.

“The kid upstairs – he’s not yours, is he?”

Tony narrows his eyes. “What’s it to you?”

“Just making small talk.”

Tony looks unimpressed. “Where have you even been all this time?” He asks.

“Wakanda.”

Tony hums. “Catered to every need, I’m sure. You might as well have stayed there, I suppose. You probably don’t even care that you’re back in New York.”

Steve shrugs. “I’m thankful either way. If only for the sake of Barton and Lang. They missed their families. And I’m glad to see you again.”

“Oh, give me a break.”

“You’re the one who got us pardoned. And from what I understand, you were also the one who suggested that we move in here.”

“Yes, because I know earth needs you, you dipshit. Not because I wanted to hold hands with you and skip down Coney Island Boulevard together. It was the only way I could get the whole freaking UN to agree. Do you even realize why you are here? They agreed to pardon you on the condition that I take responsibility for your actions. Do you understand what that means? It means that if you go rogue again, _my_ ass is on the line.”

“So you’re saying that if I see a bad situation going down, I need to wait for a permission slip from the UN before I can do anything about it?” Steve asks

“I’m saying use a little discretion. At the very least until you’re back in everyone’s favor. And Maximoff _definitely_ shouldn’t get herself caught up in anything big. She’s a liability.”

Steve crosses his arms. “It would help if you talked about her like she were a person, rather than a dog with rabies.”

Tony jumps to his feet, feeling his heartbeat in his ears.

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony turns to see Peter in the doorway. The kid looks a little pale. “I don’t feel so good…” he mumbles.

“What is it, kid?” Tony asks, his anger at Steve immediately forgotten.

“Dunno… I’m really dizzy suddenly.”

Steve makes a move as if he wants to step closer to Peter, and Tony feels suddenly possessive of his kid. “Come on,” he says, quickly moving to Peter’s side and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s put you on the couch for a minute. Did you eat enough, drink enough water today?”

He supports Peter to the living room, with Steve following closely behind, which annoys him. When he reaches the living area, he is relieved to see just Pepper and Wanda there, having tea.

“Where are the others?” He asks as he pushes Peter towards the couch.

Pepper sets her teacup down. “In their rooms. Settling in. Everything okay?”

“Just dizzy.” Peter murmurs.

“Do I call your aunt?” Tony suggests as he reaches for a blanket.

“She is out of town this weekend.”

Steve wants to help lower Peter to the couch, but one of Peter’s flailing arms catches him square on the nose.

“OUCH!”

“Sorry,” Peter says, blinking owlishly. “I’m dizzy.”

“That’s okay, son,” Steve mutters, rubbing at his nose.

“You’re bleeding,” Wanda points out.

“Sorry,” Peter repeats, looking at him with wide eyes. “Sorry mister… captain…”

“No worries, just… Let me go grab a tissue…” Steve mutters, before rushing from the room.

“Did you just punch Steve in the nose?” Tony asks as he throws Peter the blanket.

“Accidentally,” Peter says, looking at him with wide, innocent eyes, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

“All right,” Tony murmurs. “You just have a lie down, then.” He stretches himself and sighs. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get Stephen Strange on the phone. He was supposed to be here already. I’ll be back in a sec, Pete.”

Pepper sets down her teacup and follows Tony, probably to ask him how his talk with Steve had gone.

That just leaves Peter with Wanda, who is slowly sipping her tea, her sharp eyes scrutinizing Peter as the silence lingers.

“I know you’re not really sick,” she says.

Peter turns on his side to look at her.

“And I know your aunt isn’t really out of town.”

“You shouldn’t do the mindreading thing so much,” Peter informs her. “It’s an invasion of privacy. Leave it for the bad guys. Now, help me out. What is a life-threatening illness that I can fake that would force Iron-Man and Captain America to work together to save my life?”

“You punched Steve in the face,” Wanda points out instead of answering.

“I do believe he deserved it.”

“Perhaps,” she allows with a small smile.

-

“Does it hurt?” Tony asks as he peers at Steve, who presses a second tissue against his nose, discarding the first in the bin.

“A little.”

“Good.”

Steve huffs, but doesn’t retaliate. “I usually heal from bloody noses after a few seconds,” he mutters.

“Yeah, well, the spidey-kid has some snap behind his punches.”

“Look, Tony, I know the situation is less than ideal. But you said it yourself: this is the deal for now, and we have to work our way through it. For what it’s worth, Bucky is planning to isolate himself in his room for as long as needed.”

“Good.”

“He was _brainwashed_ , Tony.”

“Yes, I don’t need the reminder, Rogers!” Tony bites out. “And for what it’s worth to _you_ , I’m not even mad at him. That doesn’t mean I want to see his face at the dinner table as a lovely reminder, but at least I can deal with having him in my house. Because, yeah, he didn’t know what he was doing. But _you_ knew, didn’t you? You knew full well, all along, you-”

“Mr Stark? Peter isn’t feeling so good.”

Tony and Steve break off their discussion to turn to Wanda who has appeared in the doorway, her teacup still in her hands.

“What do you mean?” Tony asks, jumping to attention. “Is he getting worse?”

“Stomach cramps,” she says, softly blowing the steam off her tea.

“I’ll go to him,” Tony mutters. “By the way – ah Stephen Strange will be at the compound any minute. He’s a sorcerer. Not entirely similar to you, but I suppose he’s in the ball park. He has agreed to work with you a few times, see if he can help you get a better handle on your own powers. Can you do that for me?”

She nods, looking mildly surprised. “Of course.”

Tony wants to leave, but Steve holds him back a moment. “Thanks for that, Tony. I was worried you were just going to keep her locked up.”

“What would be the point of that? I told you, I brought you back because the people need you. Her, too, once she has more control over herself. Can’t believe I have to explain everything a million times…” and, grumbling under his breath, he makes his way back to the living room.

“Kid,” he tells Peter. “You chose a very bad time to get sick.”

“I think I chose the perfect time,” is Peter’s response. “And I’m getting a migraine.”

“Wanda said you had stomach cramps?”

“Oh. Well, yes. Those too.”

Tony crosses his arms across his chest. “Why do I get the feeling you’re up to something?”

“Mmmmm,” Peter says, “because you’re under a lot of stress right now?”

“Yes I am. And you’re not helping.”

“I _am_ helping,” Peter protests. “I’m just making sure you and Cap don’t fight.”

Tony sighs and sits on the edge of the couch. “Pete… you’re just delaying the inevitable. Steve and I have a lot of stuff to work through. It’s not something to ignore. And distracting me is only a short term solution.”

“All right,” Peter says. “Then go.”

“What?”

“Go work it out. I won’t interrupt you with my fake illnesses anymore. Just don’t bash his head in.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Tony says. “You’ve already done that for me.”

Peter grins.

-

“This way. _Don’t_ touch anything please,” Tony grates as he leads Steve through his workshop again until they reach a table in the back. “I can’t believe you’ve been in my house for almost two hours now, and I haven’t heard an ‘I’m sorry’, yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, immediately. “Our friendship always meant a lot to me, Tony, and I realize I haven't been a good one. I should have told you.”

“Damn straight.” Tony pulls away a blanket to reveal the Captain America shield. He carefully picks it up, and then holds it out to Steve, who looks stunned.

“Tony – what?”

“He made it for you. And the whole point of getting you here, is because I knew we needed you to protect the people. No point in doing that if I don’t give you back the shield, too.”

Steve carefully takes the shield, curling his fingers around the grip. “Does this mean that we’re okay?”

“No,” Tony says. “But we will be. Maybe after my kid punched you in the nose a few more times.”

“That was an accident.”

“Uhuh. And the next time will be an accident too, I’m sure.”

Steve throws him a puzzled look, but doesn’t ask any further. “I like the kid,” he merely says.

“Everyone likes him. It’s almost insufferable.”

-

“Hey Happy,” Peter says as he crawls into the back, fumbling with his bag.

“It’s us.”

“Oh – oh, hey Tony! Hey Steve! You never pick me up!”

Steve turns in his seat and takes of his sunglasses, pointing them at Tony. “Wanna get some pie? Tony recommended a coffee bar.”

Peter nods. “I think I know the one. He took me there a few months ago. Does this mean you have bad news? Because he did last time.”

“No. We just wanted to hang out. What was his bad news?”

“Uh,” Peter says, biting his tongue. “Nothing. Water under the bridge.”

Tony is less discrete. “You lot were coming,” he tells Steve.

“That _is_ bad news,” Steve confirms, sliding his sunglasses back on with a grin.

“Yes, it is, Rogers,” Tony says. “My gas and electricity bill have tripled.”

“Well, then the pie is on me. Buckle up, Pete!”


	10. T.E.C.H.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another continuation of fanfic “good publicity”. 
> 
> Tony deals with Peter being a reckless Spider-Man. [prompt by FixYou1394]
> 
> This one gets a little angsty before we get to the fluff!

Peter lands on the roof of the compound with a thud, making his way to the roof hatch. Today’s patrol had been… chaotic at best. When he convinced Ned to hack the suit with him, he hadn’t anticipated that Tony had installed no less than 576 possible web shooter combinations.

He needs to get his laptop out and see if he can reverse the damage, or maybe only keep a few web shooter combinations unlocked. The web grenades might come in useful, but those taser webs were… a _bad_ idea.

Mentally preparing a to do list, he rushes into his bedroom – only to be met with the sight of Tony standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. “Chapter – oh, what is it? – _fifteen_ on ‘Peter Parker screws the pooch’. This episode: Peter Parker hacks a multimillion-dollar suit and mucks around with _taser webs_ , almost getting himself electrocuted in the process.”

Peter’s heart feels like it has stopped in his chest. “How did you know?”

“Well, you’ve hacked your way through pretty much everything the suit had to offer. But you forgot to take off the baby monitor protocol.”

“What? What does that mean? You’re _spying_ on me?”

“I’m _monitoring_ you, kid,” Tony thunders. “And with good reason! What were you thinking, hacking into my suit?”

“It’s _my_ suit, and I’m not a little kid! I’ve done this a long time, Tony. Since way before you came along!”

“Yes, and all that time you’ve done it _without_ taser webs. I’m not stopping you from doing anything you’ve always done. But this technology was created by _me_ , and I decide when you’re ready for it. Will you take off the damn mask when we’re having a discussion?”

Peter rips off his mask, feeling his heartbeat speed up, and annoyance at Tony bubbling up in his chest. Tony knows damn well it’s harder for him to talk about things when he’s _not_ in the suit.

“You wanna enlighten me on _why_ you felt it necessary to hack a million-dollar suit? Getting bored of your old-fashioned web shooters?”

Peter throws his mask on his desk, pressing his lips together.

“What, _now_ I’m getting the silent treatment?” Tony asks, and Peter feels anger flare up in his chest. Maybe more at himself than at Tony, but he can hardly start yelling at himself.

“You’re such an asshole, I hate you!” He bites out before storming into his bathroom and slamming the door, turning the lock.

He hears a thud as Tony connects with the door on the other side. The handle is turned a few times. “Peter, open this door.”

Peter connects his phone to the bathroom speakers, blasting a song by The Eagles that he knows Tony can’t stand, drowning out Tony’s voice.

He presses against the logo on his chest to let the suit drop away from his body. He shrugs out of it, kicking his feet to get rid of it faster. He wants to be _out_ of this suit.

The knocking has stopped. Tony is gone.

Peter kick his suit into a corner and grabs his pajamas, the only clothes he has in here. He puts them on, his motions rigid. Then he moves to the sink to splash some water into his face. He feels incredibly frustrated. When he stopped talking, it had been his own choice. So why is it so hard to start again?

He grabs his phone again and kills the music. The sudden silence is deafening.

Peter leans on the sink as he thinks. He has never had a fight with Tony and isn’t sure what to do next. Should he go downstairs and search him out, or stay in his room until Tony comes back for him?

He decides on option two, and opens his door to crawl into bed, only to find that Tony hasn’t left the room at all. He had been sitting on Peter’s bed, flipping through Peter’s geography essay, and glances up when Peter appears in the doorway.

Peter, surprised, isn’t sure what to do now. Hugging himself, he shuffles to the bed and sits down on it, too, but leaving some space between Tony and himself. He pulls up his knees and wraps his arms around them.

Tony puts the papers down. “I hope you weren’t just tearing the suit to shreds during your little bathroom session?”

Peter quickly shakes his head, feeling embarrassment creeping in.

“I’m sorry about the ‘silent treatment’ comment. I shouldn’t have said that,” Tony says.

“I don’t hate you,” Peter whispers.

“All right, so we both said some things we didn’t mean,” Tony concludes. “Let’s try this again. Why did you feel the need to take off the training wheels protocol?”

Peter shrugs, staring at his knees. “I didn’t really think about it. I was just curious.”

“I know. You’re impulsive. That’s the whole reason why the training wheels are there in the first place.”

“Right,” Peter mutters. He had hacked the suit because he was tired of people thinking he was too immature to fight the real fight. But in doing so, he had showed Tony exactly the opposite: that he’s too immature to control himself.

He feels Tony’s hand land on his shoulders. “It’s okay, kid,” Tony says. “You’re young. We all have a learning curve, there’s nothing wrong with that. I put the training wheels on, not because I think you can’t handle yourself, but because I want to help you learn. If I didn’t want you to learn them eventually, I wouldn’t have put all that tech in in the first place, yeah? But we have to do it one step at a time.”

Peter nods.

“If you _ever_ do something like that again, I’m going to take the suit away, you understand, funsy?”

Peter nods again.

“Hug it out, then?”

Peter smiles, turning to he can lay his head against Tony’s shoulder with a long exhale, clutching the front of Tony’s sweater with one hand.

“I like your geography essay,” Tony remarks as he slowly strokes Peter’s back.

Peter chuckles a little. “You’re just saying that.” He’s pretty sure that ‘ _Modelling the Climatology of Tornado Occurrence with Bayesian Inference’_ is nowhere near Tony’s field of interest.

“Yeah, okay,” Tony concedes. “It seemed pretty boring. How was patrol?”

“Chaotic,” Peter admits.

“Ain’t that the truth. How about we go and put the training wheels protocol back up?”

“Okay,” Peter mumbles, taking a chance. “Maybe… change the name?”

Tony laughs, his chest vibrating against Peter’s cheek. “What the heck. If it’ll keep you from attempting to destroy it. Any suggestions?”

“Totally Extremely Confusing Hogdepodge,” Peter suggests.

Tony snorts. “Right. ‘Tech’ for short, huh? Good to see to appreciate the importance of acronyms. TECH it is. Let’s go set it up.” He taps Peter on the back. “C’mon, get your suit. Wanna change the name of the baby monitor, too?”

“Big Brother,” Peter mutters as he moves back to the bathroom.

“Yeah, I monitor you kid,” Tony calls after him. “Just get used to it. Because if you get hurt, it’s on me.”

“Not on you,” Peter says, reappearing with the suit.

“It _is_ on me. And I don’t need that on my conscious. So please stay safe. For _my_ sake. Okay?”

“Okay,” Peter says easily as he follows Tony out. After today’s mayhem, he doesn’t have a particular desire to use that technology any time soon, anyways.

Totally extremely confusing hodgepodge…


	11. Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter temporarily loses his powers, leaving Tony to take care of his half blind, asthmatic mentee. [prompt by spiderlingthememe]

“Take a look at _this_ kid. Why don’t you try that on? And then I’ll introduce the Avengers to their newest team member: Spider-Man.”

“Woah,” Peter breathes, looking in awe at the Spider-Suit displayed in the middle of the room.

“Go on, see if it fits. I can make some final adjustments this week, and then I want this thing ready to fly for our next mission. And how about I introduce you to Dr. Banner first? I believe he’s the one you’ve most wanted to meet, hmm?”

Peter looks overwhelmed: half ecstatic, half terrified. Tony gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“You’ll make a great Avenger, kid. I know you’ll do us all proud.”

-

Tony notices something is wrong, when one day he suddenly notices Peter walking around his workshop squinting at all the screens.

“Kid. When’s the last time you’ve had your eyesight tested?”

Peter immediately looks more panicked than Tony expected. “What? I don’t need… I mean… I don’t need them.”

“You sure about that? Because you’re walking around here like I’ve sprayed teargas into the air.”

“I don’t need them,” Peter insists, stubbornly. “I don’t want them.”

“Are you implying glasses aren’t _cool_?” Tony asks, pointedly sliding his own glasses down his nose to glance at Peter across the rim.

“No,” Peter mutters. “It’s just a whole fuss and they’re expensive.”

“Well, first of all, I’ll pay for them. And second of all, I know glasses aren’t ideal to combine with your suit, but you can look at contacts, or have eye laser surgery.”

“I think I still have my old pair, though. I used to wear glasses, but since the bite I don’t need them anymore.”

“Hm,” Tony says. “That’s a little odd. I’ll ask Bruce to look into that.”

-

The second time Tony notices something is wrong, is when he calls Peter for help a few days later.

“Kid! Avengers Assemble time! There’s a guy with robot arms attacking a prison. Need you to get here _stat_ before he breaks them all out.”

“Uhhh, I can’t. I’m at band practice.”

“That’s odd. Happy said you quit band six weeks ago. What’s up?”

Peter begins to stammer. “I… well, I d-don’t know why he’d say that. I’m at practice – oh, the teacher is walking in gottagobye!” And he hangs up.

Tony blinks in surprise. This was going to be the kid’s first mission with the team, and it’s not like Peter at all to try and get out of it, and with such a lame excuse.

No time to think about it right now, though – they have a prison to defend.

-

“Kid, how long are you going to keep ghosting me? Listen; if you don’t call me back within the hour, I’m going to drop by your house and see what’s up. Get back to me!”

Tony hangs up. That’s the third time he reached Peter’s voicemail. He needs to know that Peter is okay, because really, the only reason he can think of why Peter would blow him off, is because he is in some sort of danger.

Five minutes later, Peter calls him back. “I’m sorry Mr. Stark,” he mutters. “I _really_ had band practice.”

“You and I both know that’s baloney, kid. Look, I’m not mad, I just need to know if you’re okay. It’s not like you to ditch the team.”

It stays quiet for a while. “I’m okay,” Peter finally says, though he sounds far from it.

“Are you at home, now?”

“Yeah.”

“Going patrolling tonight?”

“No. Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know yet.”

“Come by the compound this weekend, okay?”

Peter’s voice is almost a whisper. “Okay.”

-

Tony _knows_ something is wrong, when on Thursday afternoon FRIDAY alerts him to an alarming change in Peter’s vitals.

“What’s the problem?”

“Severe difficulty breathing.”

“Who is attacking him?”

“The baby monitor shows he is alone, on a rooftop.”

“Give me coordinates, I’m flying in.”

He finds the kid splayed out on his back on a flat rooftop of one of New York’s skyscrapers. The kid has pulled his mask off, and seems to be gasping for air. Tony practically makes an emergency landing next to his mentee, quickly stepping out of the suit. “Pete? What’s happening? Are you in pain?”

Peter presses one hand against his chest, his eyes squinted shut as he coughs and rasps.

“FRIDAY, is it his heart?”

“His heart is fine. He has the symptoms of a mild asthma attack.”

Tony kneels next to Peter, grabbing him firmly by the arm. “What do I do?”

“Ask if he has an inhaler,” FRIDAY instructs.

“Pete – PETE? Do you have an inhaler?”

Peter manages to shake his head.

“I’m going to take you to Bruce, all right? Hang on, kid. FRIDAY – tell Bruce to get ready.”

The flight back to the tower seems to take an eternity. The whole way there, Peter is coughing, wheezing and whimpering in his arms.

He spots Bruce waiting for him on the roof of the compound, and lands next to him. “Where do I go?”

“Nowhere,” Bruce says, lifting his hand to show an inhaler. He starts shaking it. “Put him down.”

Tony does, and Bruce kneels next to Peter, offering up the inhaler. The kid clearly knows his way around it, tilting his head back breathing in through the inhaler. And again. And again. The couching subsides and Peter slumps down on his back, looking exhausted. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“Language, kid,” Tony says. He turns his head to Bruce, lifting his eyebrows. _What the hell just happened?_

Bruce shrugs, pressing his lips together. _I have no clue_.

“Pete?” Bruce says. “Let’s get you inside, so I can check you over and you can rest, okay?”

“Hmmmhmm,” Peter murmurs in agreement.

-

“You used to have asthma, correct?”

Peter nods. He has crawled into one of the beds in the medic bay, and Bruce has shooed both Tony and Dr. Cho out to talk to the kid alone.

“How long since your last attack?”

“Not since the bite.”

“Same as your eyesight, then.”

Peter nods, clenching the blanket in his fists and keeping his eyes averted.

Bruce takes out a pen and paper. “I don’t know what exactly is happening. That’s why I need you to tell me everything you know. Have you noticed anything else wrong with you lately?”

“Everything is wrong,” Peter says, suddenly sounding on the verge of tears. “My powers have gone all w-wonky. I think I’m l-losing them.”

“Describe to me what you have noticed,” Bruce says, keeping his voice calm and professional.

“My eyesight has gone bad. I can’t h-hear things anymore. I can’t run fast anymore b-because I get asthma.”

“Do you still stick to walls and ceilings?”

“Yes, but I’ve stopped doing it because I don’t want to lose that power when I’m in the middle of climbing a skyscraper.”

“Smart kid.”

Peter sits up a little, pulling the blanket closer around himself. “I still have my strength. And fast reflexes. And sometimes my spidey-sense kicks in, but sometimes it doesn’t.”

“And what do you think might have caused this?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What is your instinct? Because those are usually right.”

Peter sniffles. “I think I’m just stressed. But sometimes I don’t know if I’m losing my powers because I’m stressed, or if I’m stressed because I’m losing my powers.”

When did you start losing your powers?”

“Two, three weeks ago.”

“And what is the thing you were stressed about around that time?”

Peter looks down at the mattress. “I don’t wanna say…”

“Is it personal? Do you want me to get Sam in here?”

Peter quickly shakes his head. “I don’t need _therapy_.”

“If your stress is making you lose your powers, it’s not something you can ignore. You don’t have to talk to _me_ about it, but-“

“I don’t want to be an Avenger,” Peter whispers.

-

Tony glances down at his watch again. Twenty minutes Bruce has been alone with the kid. Tony is about to march back to the door to ask how much longer it will be, when that door opens and Bruce appears, beckoning him in.

Tony follows Bruce to the far end of the medic bay, where a pale and nervous Peter is sitting on one of the beds.

“Are you okay, kid? Does it still hurt?”

“A little,” Peter murmurs, carefully rubbing his own chest.

“Was it really an asthma attack?”

Peter nods.

“How is that possible?”

Peter takes a deep breath. “I’m losing my powers. That’s why I couldn’t help you with the prison thing. I… I have enough trouble catching bicycle thieves these days. My sight, my hearing, my speed…”

Tony mutters a curse. “I knew something was up. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Peter shrugs, pressing his lips together.

Tony turns to Bruce. “Do you know _why_ this is happening?”

Bruce simply nods. “Not for certain, of course, but my guess is, it’s somatoform.”

“Excuse me?”

“He’s losing his powers because, subconsciously, he doesn’t want to have them right now.”

Tony blinks at him, then turns his gaze back to Peter, who sits huddled against the headboard of the bed. “Why not?”

Peter starts blinking rapidly, his hands clenched around the blanket so tightly that his fingers turn white. “I just don’t want to be an Avenger,” he then blurts out. “I know you want me to be the new team member, but I don’t want to… I’m not up for all that saving the world crap, It’s too much,” he stumbles over his own words. “It’s too big for me. I’ve only done all of this a few months, I’m just a kid. I have homework, and I know you don’t care about that but I _do_. I have finals and stuff, and I don’t want to flunk out. And I’d rather stay close to the ground for a little while. I can’t do all this stuff, I’m not ready, I’m _not!_ ”

“Okay, kid, okay…” Tony says in his most soothing voice. “Calm down before you get another asthma attack.”

Peter takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I just want to be a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“That’s all right. I get it. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Peter ducks his head. “I don’t know, it was just… I really enjoyed being at the compound and working with you and Bruce. I liked _that_ side of it.”

“So, we’ll just stick to that side, then,” Tony reasons. “You can work with us at the compound without being part of the team."

“Oh,” Peter says, his face lighting up. “Really?”

“Of course, underoos. I didn’t mean to put any pressure on you. Whenever you _are_ ready, there’s always going to be a spot on the team for you, okay?”

Peter’s shoulders sag as the tension visibly drains from his body. “Yeah. Okay.”

“All right,” Tony says, patting him on the shoulder. “What do you want to do right now? Do some work?”

Peter gives an apologetic smile. “I kinda just want to take a nap.”

“All right, then. You want to stay for dinner tonight?”

Peter perks up and nods. “Thanks.”

“Anytime, kid. Give me a hug. Next time let me in on what’s going on in that brain of yours, yeah? I don’t want to find you half-dead on a rooftop again.”

-

“Mr. Stark, where are you? I don’t see you.”

“I’m still about a minute away, kid. Hang on.”

“Woah,” Peter breathes, crackling through the speakers in Tony’s dashboard. “I outran your car!”

“No shit, Parker. FRIDAY just informed me that you broke your personal speed record. Someone was looking forward to today?”

“I just want to see if I can make my new web formula work! If I get it compressed the right way, I think I can increase the amount of web fluid in each cannister by about twelve percent!”

Tony drives up to the compound to see the kid in his red and blue suit right next to the entrance, jumping up and down.

“Jeez, kid, you’re like a puppy who needs to go for a pee.”

“Actually I kinda do need to pee.”

Tony stops the car right next to him for a moment, rolling down his window. “You know you can just go inside, right? _Mi casa es su casa_. Just put the toilet seat down after, or Pepper will have my hide.”

“Okay, see you in the lab,” Peter says, before speeding off like a dog going after a squirrel.

Tony shakes his head with a smile, watching him go.

Just a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.


	12. The Little Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [prompt by Nessa90610] Inspired by ‘The Little Prince’. Set during Iron Man 1. Very much an AU. I have to admit it’s pretty far from what I usually do, but I did enjoy writing it. So here it goes: >> Tony is stranded in the desert and is visited by a strange boy.

_-2008-_

It has only been two hours since Tony escaped the Ten Rings terrorist group. Two hours of wandering the Afghan desert. And he already feels like he is an inch from death. If he could just lie down. Just lie down right here for a few minutes, and rest his eyes against the bright reflection of sunlight in the sand… The sand is so warm and soft…

“Excuse me, sir?”

Tony’s eyes fly open and he sits up so fast that he gets a headrush. He blinks until his vision clears and he sees a boy sitting, cross-legged, about two meters away from him, eyeing him earnestly.

“Could you please draw me a spider?”

Tony is absolutely astonished. He blinks. He looks to his left and to his right, but there is only desert as far as his eyes can see. He looks back at the boy, who is no older than twelve. He doesn’t look like he has been wandering the desert for hours or days or weeks. He doesn’t look hungry, his lips aren’t chapped, there is no sand stuck in his brown, messy hair.

“Where did you come from, kid?”

The boy frowns, as if he had certainly not expected that question. “That doesn’t matter,” he says, slightly impatient. “Could you please draw me a spider?”

Tony pats his pockets, coming up with nothing. “I don’t have paper.”

“I have paper,” The boy immediately says, offering up a perfectly white, untouched sheet of paper. And a green pencil, too.

Tony slowly takes them and – since he doesn’t know what the hell else to do – draws a green blob with eight legs and hands it back to the boy.

The boy takes the paper and studies it intensively, a small frown on his face.

Tony looks down at the green pencil in his hand. It’s not real. _It can’t be_. “You’re – ah – desert hallucination. _Fata Morgana_.”

The boy giggles. “No, I’m Peter.”

“Peter.”

Peter puts the drawing to the side, and then produces another sheet of paper out of nowhere. “This is a very angry spider,” he says, pointing at the old drawing. “Can you draw one that is happy?”

Tony draws again.

“This is an old spider. I want a young spider, who will live a long time,” Peter says, discarding the second drawing.

Tony draws again: a square, this time. With a few vertical and horizontal lines running through it.

“There. It’s a box,” Tony says, handing the drawing back. “Your spider is _inside_ it. And it’s _exactly_ the spider you want.”

Peter’s eyes light up. “Perfect,” he exclaims. He gently lays the drawing to the side and looks back at Tony. “What’s your name?”

“Tony.”

“Are you an alien?”

“I’m sorry?”

Peter points towards the sun. “Because you fell from the sky.”

“I escaped a group of terrorists in a flying suit. But I crashed it.”

“Are you a terrorist?”

“Of course not. I am a business owner.”

“What kind of business?” Peter asks, looking extremely intrigued.

“We produce high tech weapons, why, are you looking to buy anything?” Tony jokes.

“Oh,” Peter says, looking at Tony as if he is a particularly difficult math equation he is trying to solve. “Do your weapons kill people?”

“Well, yeah. But hopefully they mostly kill the bad people.”

“Hm,” Peter merely says.

“Look, kid, if we don’t manufacture these weapons, then someone else will. So, in the end it doesn’t matter.”

“Oh,” Peter says, his face falling a little. “I see what you mean.”

It stays quiet for a little while.

“Imagine if no one else did, though,” Peter then says, looking a little wistful. “Imagine if no one else made weapons on the whole planet. Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

“Um,” Tony mutters. “Maybe.”

“Do you think there wouldn’t be any wars if weapons didn’t exist?”

“Nah,” Tony says. “There’d still be wars. But they probably wouldn’t be as big.”

Peter nods slowly. “Okay. Well, if your weapons only kill bad people, I suppose it’s not that scary.”

“Well, to be honest, it seems that maybe _some_ of my weapons ended up in the hands of terrorists.”

“Oh.”

“Accidentally.”

“Right,” Peter says, with a pensive look. “What’s worse: killing a person accidentally or on purpose?”

“On purpose, of course.”

“All right. What’s worse: killing _two_ people accidentally, or killing _one_ person on purpose?”

Tony digs his heels into the sand. “I… I don’t know,” he says slowly. “What do you think?”

Peter gives a mild shrug. “I don’t know, I’m twelve.”

Tony can’t help but snort. Then he shakes his head. “Look, kid, there’s just some dodgy arms dealer somewhere along the way who sells my stuff to terrorists. That’s not something I can help. I can’t fix that.”

“Oh,” Peter says. “I see. I thought maybe you could.”

“I can’t,” Tony snaps.

“I heard you. It’s too bad, though. But you are right. You can only be held responsible for things you _can_ help.” Peter says, logically. He picks up Tony’s drawing again, looking down at it with his head slightly cocked to one side. “I’m worried that the spider might be cold.”

“Cold,” Tony repeats in a dry voice. With the sun beating down on his skin, he can’t even remember what it must be like to feel cold. “Of course he’s not cold. The sun is shining.”

“Is it? I don’t see it.”

“Gimme that,” Tony says, taking the paper back and drawing a sun in the sky above the rectangular box, drawing the sunbeams in such a way that they fall directly on it. “There. See?”

“Perfect!” Peter exclaims. He stretches his legs out and slowly gets to his feet. “I’m going to walk, now. Do we say goodbye?”

“No,” Tony says, hastily jumping to his feet. “I’m walking with you.”

They slip and slide their way through the loose sand. Tony takes of his shirt and wraps it around his head to shield himself from the sun. They walk and walk and walk, until Peter suddenly stops.

“This seems like a nice spot,” he says.

To Tony, it just seems like the same damn desert he has been walking through for hours on end. But he is in no mood to argue. He needs a moment of rest. He sinks down to the sand again, lying down flat on his back this time. Peter does the same.

“Do you like cheeseburgers?” The kid asks.

“Of course.”

“Do you have a goldfish?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been to Japan?”

“For business. Sure.”

“You go to _Japan_ for business?” The kid asks, sounding in awe.

“I travel all over the world. We have suppliers everywhere.”

“Do you think your suppliers work with child labor?” Peter asks, his tones still interested.

Tony slowly sits up. “Probably. Every big company has child labor somewhere in the production chain. It’s something you can’t prevent.”

“Oh,” Peter says. “That’s a shame.”

It stays quiet for a little while.

“Do you test on animals?”

“For fuck’s s-… Kid, you can’t make me feel bad about _everything,_ okay? Who cares about animal testing? Animals don’t think the way people do.”

“Oh,” Peter says, taking out the drawing and holding it up to look at it again. “I didn’t think about that. I didn’t think about whether or not animals can _think_. I just thought about whether or not they can _suffer_.”

Tony doesn’t know how to reply to that.

Peter holds the drawing out to him. “I’m very worried that the spider might be bored in that box.”

“Of course not. He has cable in there.”

“Cable?”

“TV. Look.” Tony takes the drawing and adds an electric wire running from the box to a socket. “Voila. He’s got electricity.”

“Perfect!” Peter exclaims. And then he says something else, but his words are drowned out by the sudden noise of roaring engines.

And Tony yells, wildly waving his arms around. And a helicopter lands, blowing sand into the air. And Rhodey jumps out, rushing closer.

Tony turns back to look at the kid.

But the kid is gone. And his drawing, too.

-

“Where to?” Happy asks.

“A hospital-“ Pepper starts, but Tony cuts in.

“Nope. No hospital.”

“Tony, you need-“

“I don’t _need_ anything. I _want_ a cheeseburger. And I want you to call for a press conference.”

“Call for a press conference? What on earth for?”

“Cheeseburger first, Haps! Does anyone have a pen and paper?”

Pepper hands both items to him, but isn’t done complaining. “Tony, you need mental and physical rest. You have been through a terrible ordeal.”

“I have a headache.”

“That’s what I mean, you have to-“

“Your talking is making it worse.”

Pepper huffs, taking out her phone and clearly electing to ignore Tony from now on.

Tony looks down at the paper and pen and realizes that, without thinking, he has recreated the drawing that he made for Peter. “I want to stop manufacturing weapons,” he says as he looks down at it.

Pepper looks up from her phone. Blinks. “What do you want to manufacture?”

Instead of answering, Tony holds the piece of paper out to her.

Pepper takes it, eyeing it critically.

“What does that look like to you?” Tony asks.

Pepper looks at the square in the middle with the horizontal and vertical lines running through it, at the sun hovering above it and beaming directly at it, at the plug connected to it. “A solar panel?” She guesses.

Tony jolts “What? Why would you guess that?”

“I don’t know, Tony, that’s what it looks like. But it could be a Belgian waffle for all I care. The company has been making weapon technology for decades, you can’t just snap your fingers and alter the entire production line.”

Tony takes the drawing back, studying it closely. “A solar panel…” he murmurs.

Pepper lets out a frustrated noise. “I might as well be talking to a cow’s ass…” she mutters.

“Speaking of cow’s asses… What’s our ETA on the cheeseburger joint?”

He’s going to eat at least three cheeseburgers. And then he’s going to turn his whole damn company around to focus on green energy. From now on, Stark Industries is only going to make the world a _better_ place.


	13. War hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve helps Peter with a school project [Prompt by Squirrelflight26]

“Is Steve at home?” Was the first thing Peter uttered when he walked into the compound one afternoon.

Tony lowered his mug of coffee, leaning back in his armchair. “Good afternoon to you, too. How is life, how was school, etcetera?”

“Good, etcetera,” Peter said. “Is Steve around? I wanted to ask him for help. I have to write an essay about a personal hero. For school.”

Tony spluttered. “Excuse me? And you’re going with _Steve Rogers_? Talk about a knife in the back…”

Peter rolled his eyes. “It has to be a hero from the second world war, Tony. It’s for history. I promise, if I ever have to write an essay about my personal favorite insane genius, you’re at the top of my list.”

“I’d _better_ be, kid,” Tony shot back. “But, just out of curiosity, who would be number two?”

“Have you seen Steve or not?”

“FRIDAY, ask Steve to come down. Kid, have a seat.”

Peter slumped down on the couch. “I thought you had meetings all day?”

“I do,” Tony replied, glancing at his watch. “That doesn’t mean I’m actually _going_ to them.”

“Wow,” Peter murmured. “I want to be here when Pepper hears you say that.”

Tony’s eyes flitted around the room. “I’m not afraid of her.”

“You know when that sounds convincing? When you say it while clearly looking for the nearest exit.”

Tony almost threw a book at him.

-

It took about ten minutes before Steve finally arrived; his hair still wet.

“I was working out. Had to quickly pop in the shower.”

“Oh – sorry,” Peter said, sitting up. “It wasn’t an emergency or anything.”

“No. FRIDAY says you have a history project.”

“Yeah. You said last time you’d like to help me.”

“I did,” Steve replied, looking pleased at being asked.

“I can use some help,” Peter admitted. “Seeing as how it’s my worst subject.”

“O yes,” Tony pipes in. “Coming in at a dreadful A minus average.”

Steve sat down, running a hand through his wet hair. “I do seem to recall you telling me that you absolutely can’t stand the subject?”

Peter shrugged, taking his laptop from his backpack. “I just don’t really like history. I like science, because every question has an answer, and it’s always clear, and it has solutions for loads of big problems. But history is all ‘grey area’. And I have to write these long essays with pros and cons and a nuances conclusion.”

“Ugh,” Steve said, clearly pretending to be offended on Peter’s behalf. “Don’t get me started on _nuance_. Who ever invented that?”

“Go ahead, make fun,” Peter pulled up his legs, balancing his laptop on his knees. “We have to write about a war hero, and half my classmates are picking you. No offense, but I don’t want to be that obvious. I would rather tell a forgotten story. Someone who people don’t really know about.”

“That’s fine,” Steve said. “I can still help. I didn’t live through the end of the war, but I know stories. A lot of stories. I could fill a bookshelf with all the war stories I know.”

“You have an obsession, Rogers,” Tony said, not taking his eyes off his own screen.

“Ugh – you know what, Stark?”

“What?”

“You. know. what?”

“WHAT?”

“Can you give me a few stories?” Peter quickly cut in, before a civil war could break out in the living room. “Maybe I’ll pick one.”

Steve turned away from Tony, drumming his fingers against the armrest. “Where do I start? I know the story of Timothy Hood, an African-American soldier who fought in New Guinea after that country was invaded by Japan. On arriving back in the US, he received medals and an honorable discharge, and then took a bus to travel back to his family. In that bus, he removed a sign that said ‘blacks were only allowed to sit in the back of the bus’. In response, the bus driver drew his gun and shot five bullets into his chest. When the police arrived at the scene, all they did was put a final bullet through his head and kill him.

I know the story of Irena Sendler, who worked as a plumber in the Jewish ghetto of Warsaw in Poland. She smuggled Jewish infants to safety in her tool box, and small children in the back of her truck. She always brought a dog with her to cover the noises the infants might make. She saved thousands of children this way. The Gestapo caught her and tortured her, but she gave them nothing.

And how about throwing a German in the mix? I know the story of German soldier Ernest Gräwe. He was stationed in the Dutch city of Deventer. It was 1945. The Dutch resistance tried to capture one of the bridges to help the Canadian advance against the Germans. The German division that Ernest was a part of, foiled their attempt and captured the group. The commander told Ernest to shoot all five resistance members. Ernest refused. He was executed on the spot by his own commander. The Canadians freed the city less than an hour later.

Do you want me to go on? Because I can. For hours.”

Peter gaped at him for a while, before finally snapping his mouth shut with a frown. “War is so stupid,” he muttered. “Why do people do it?”

“That’s one thing science doesn’t have an answer for, huh?” Steve responded.

“I suppose not. I wish it did, though. I wish I could, like, write a few lines of code, or solve an equation, and that would be it.” Peter blew out a long breath.

“Did my stories help?”

“Kinda. I mean, yeah. But now I don’t know who to pick. All those people deserve an essay.”

“Hundreds of people deserve essays. Just pick the story that speaks to you.”

“What about the other ones?”

Steve shrugged. “Hopefully, their stories will speak to someone else, somewhere along the line, so they’re not forgotten.”

“Yes,” Peter agreed, looking pensive. “To someone else…”

“Miss Potts is approaching the living room,” FRIDAY reported, and Tony jolted in his seat. “You never saw me!” He hissed, grabbing his coffee and newspaper, and fleeing the scene as quickly as he could. Only seconds later, Pepper stuck her head through the doorway leading from the stairwell. “Either of you seen Tony?”

“No,” Peter and Steve replied in sync, which made Pepper narrow her eyes. “All right then,” she replied slowly. “If you see him, smack him over the head for me.”

“Will do,” Steve promised earnestly.

She disappeared.

Peter turned back to Steve. “I have an idea. How about if we make an app where people can, like, take a little test and we hook them up with their ‘war hero soulmate’? You know, so we can put all your stories in the app, and they’ll never be forgotten! I can program it!”

Steve blinked. He was somewhat aware of this new technology that people referred to as ‘apps’, but he didn’t really know how it worked. Seeing Peter so enthusiastic about history was nice, though. “What about your essay?”

Peter waved his hand. “The essay is not important. Real history is way more interesting! Will you help me? You have to tell me _all_ the stories you know!”

-

“Hi. I’m Captain America. And this is _appin’ with Cap_! First, enter your name to get started!”

Tony stares down at his tablet, his jaw practically dropped to the floor. “What… what am I looking at?”

“We made an app,” Steve said, contently sitting back on the couch.

“Oh, ‘ _we’_ made an app?” Tony repeated.

“Yes, Stark, I’m very tech-savvy.”

Peter nodded in agreement, a smirk on his face.

“Do you agree with our terms and conditions?” The onscreen Cap asked.

“You’re about as tech-savvy as a blind moose, Rogers.”

“Uhg, you know what…?” Steve said, annoyed.

“What?”

“ _You know what_?”

“WHAT _,_ Rogers?”

“You have a message from Pepper,” Steve continued, before leaning in and smacking Tony on the head, _hard_.

“Oh, _now_ you’ve done it, Rogers!” Tony howled, jumping to his feet and practically throwing himself on top of Steve.

“Okay,” Peter said, blinking down at the two men who are suddenly engaged in a wrestling match, fighting their own personal little war. “I’m… I’m going to work on my essay now. Thanks for your help, Steve!”

And he left the room, leaving the two Avengers rolling over the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With everything going on, you’d almost forget that this year also marks 75 years since the end of WW2. In my country they had planned celebrations, which are now called off for obvious reasons. But, ah well. Here’s to peace & freedom & equality! The names in Steve's stories are real historical figures, and their stories are real, although the story of Timothy Hood is actually a combination of the lives of Timothy Hood and of Isaac Woodard, another African-American veteran.


	14. Delirium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A good ol’ fashioned Sickfic! [prompt by 13 55935]

Hmm… Peter can’t remember the last time he felt this comfortable. The pillows are fluffy, the blanket is warm but lightweight and… he’s pretty sure he’s _not_ in his own bed. His eyelids are heavy, but he blinks his eyes open anyway. It takes him a few seconds to recognize the living room of the Avengers’ compound. He is currently stretched out on the couch, buried in pillows and blankets. And the pair of legs he sees from the corner of his eyes are attached to… Peter leans to the side a little to see Pepper sitting in an armchair next to him.

She notices that he has woken up and sets her book aside. “Hello there, did you have a good nap?”

Peter blinks again, and slowly, the days events come back to him. “Oh, crap. I fainted, didn’t I?”

-

He had woken up that morning feeling dizzy, and he almost considered not going to school. But if he didn’t go to school, then May surely wouldn’t let him patrol this afternoon, or let him go to work with Mr. Stark this evening.

So, he had forced himself to get up and get dressed. He had grabbed an apple and promised May that he would eat it on his way to school. But, feeling too queasy to stomach even a single bite, he had simply handed the apple to a homeless man on a street corner.

School had actually been tolerable. He had managed to eat a few bites at lunch, and other than that he kept his head down and quietly took notes. His headache had faded away somewhat, and he had been pretty convinced that he would be able to go on patrol; _no_ problem.

Boy, had he been wrong. Only a few minutes of swinging around, and his head felt like it exploded with each heartbeat, his legs shaking.

 _‘I detect a raised temperature_ ,’ Karen had informed him, ‘ _and advise you to take some rest_.’

But Peter could only think about the project that he had left on Tony’s desk yesterday and _absolutely_ wanted to finish.

“I’m fine, Karen. I promise I’ll take it easy. Maybe just help the elderly carrying their groceries or something. Anything on your radar?”

“There is a gentleman on seventy-first who dropped his keys down a street drain.”

Great. Another trip into the city sewers. “Lead the way, Karen.”

Retrieving the keys seemed to take up the last of his energy. He waved the man’s gratitude away and then instructed Karen to calculate the fastest route to the compound. Enough patrolling for today. He just needed to sit down in the workshop, take it easy, and maybe take an aspirin.

“Kid, you look like hell,” Tony informed him as soon as he laid eyes on him. “What the hell happened on patrol?”

“Nothing – uh – I fished some keys out of a street drain.”

Tony gave a shudder. “Gross. I can see why that would put you off. Warn me if you’re going to throw up, yeah?”

“I might…” Peter mumbled. He did feel a little queasy again. “A glass of water might help, though.”

“Let’s go up to the kitchen.”

Peter stood up to follow Tony.

And that’s when the lights went out.

-

“I’m sorry,” Peter groans, rubbing one hand across his forehead. “I didn’t mean to cause a fuss.”

“I would tell you that it’s nonsense to apologize for getting sick,” Pepper says, “if it weren’t for the fact that Karen informed us that you’ve been walking around with a fever all day, and that you ignored her advice to get some rest.”

“I took it easy,” Peter defends himself. “I didn’t go after any big time criminals or anything…”

Pepper shakes her head, standing up from her armchair and leaning in to tuck the blanket a little closer around Peter. “Go back to sleep. You still have a fever. Are you warm enough? Do you need a hot water bottle or some socks?”

“You don’t have to fuss over me,” Peter murmurs, feeling slightly mortified at having the CEO of a billion-dollar industry fluffing up his pillow for him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is this awkward for you?” She teases. “Maybe that’ll teach you not to land yourself in this situation. Now, go back to sleep.”

-

When Peter next wakes up, he is pretty damn sure that the Avengers have agreed to continue in Pepper’s line of strategy. Because Natasha is sitting right in front of him, smiling widely and innocently as soon as she notices Peter is awake.

“There he is! Right on time, I just made you some herbal tea with honey. Would you like some orange slices with that?”

“What?” Peter murmurs, pretty sure that he is still dreaming.

“Orange slices. They’re full of vitamins.” Natasha says, sliding the cup of tea across the coffee table, closer to Peter.

“Uhhh, no, I’m good. Thanks, black widow, madam,” Peter says awkwardly.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Natasha says, shaking her head. “You have to keep up your strength. Now, do you want orange slices, or shall I squeeze you some orange juice?”

Peter can feel his brain short-circuiting at the mental image of Black Widow squeezing him some orange juice in a flowery apron.

“Slices are good.”

-

When he wakes up a third time, Tony Stark himself is sitting in the arm chair.

“Tony?” Peter asks, testing the waters.

“Hey kiddo. How are you feeling?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, his speech still a little sluggish. “Yeah, m’fine. Natasha was acting weird, though. Did I have a fever delirium or something?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tony replies, airily, before picking something up from the side table next to him. “Now, I think it’s time that I read you a little story… Let’s see… The tale of Peter Rabbit, that seems appropriate.”

“You’re… you’re joking right? You’re not actually going to read me a story?”

“That’s what you do when someone is sick,” Tony insists. “Look, I got a nice picture book-“

“Tony, stop!” Peter protests. “You’re freaking me out! Just like Natasha was!”

Tony snaps the book shut with a smile. “Well, kid, what can you do to prevent this situation in the future?”

“Never faint while I’m anywhere near _any_ of you?” Peter mutters.

“Exactly,” Tony says, nodding. “By staying in bed when you’re feeling ill. No internship. No patrolling. Not even school.”

“All riiiight,” Peter says. “I will! I promise! Can everyone please act normal again?”

“It’s a shame,” Tony laments as he lays the book aside. “I’m sure I would have been an excellent story teller. So. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty hungry, actually,” Peter admits. Now that his nausea has gone, he can feel his stomach rumbling. He only had a few bites of lunch today.

“I’ll start you off with some soup,” Tony suggests. “FRIDAY says your temperature is going down, but you’ll have to stay in bed at least until tomorrow. I already called you in sick for school tomorrow.”

“ _You_ called me in sick? I thought only my aunt could do that.”

“Somehow, when it’s me, people don’t have a problem with it,” Tony says. “Called your aunt too, by the way. She has a night shift?”

“Hmmhm.”

“I can bring you home if you prefer, but you can also stay here tonight.”

“I don’t have my PJ’s or anything,” Peter murmurs.

“I can go pick them up from your home.”

“Stop fussing over me so much!” Peter complains.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Kid, I’m not reading you a picture book. I’m just showing basic human decency. You’re sick. So _be_ sick.”

“Okay…” Peter mumbles. “Will you… will you pick up the book I’m reading, as well? It’s on my nightstand.”

“Of course, underoos. Now, go back to sleep. We’ll take care of everything.”

Peter sinks back into the pillows, and drifts off while Tony draws the curtains around the room.

Being sick isn’t so bad, after all.


	15. The Stark Expo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finds out Peter is struggling financially and, obviously, takes him shopping! [prompt by Dewin and Genibane].
> 
> ( (If you like stories about Peter struggling with poverty, you can also try my other fanfic [The Watch](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19837360) )

“Afternoon, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, timidly pausing in the doorway, glancing around the living room.

“Hey kid. Come on in.”

Peter shuffles in. This is the first time Tony has invited him to the compound to work in his workshop together. The kid looks nervous, but excited.

“How was school?”

Peter blinks. “Uh… good, sir.”

Tony nods. He’ll have to get rid of all those _yes sir, no sirs_ as quickly as he can.

“Hello, Peter, have a seat!” Pepper says, setting her laptop aside. “Let me make you some tea before you get started.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Peter murmurs, gingerly sitting down on the edge of an armchair.

“I have a proposition for you,” Tony tells him. “Next week, I’m going to be at the Stark Expo all weekend, because there is a two-day event. Launching some new products, etcetera. Want to be my assistant for the day? I’ll pay you, of course.”

Peter sits up a little straighter, nodding vigorously. “That would be awesome – I mean, can I do all that?”

“Sure. Easy peasy. You’ll just help with some of the demonstrations, I don’t know… Maybe click through my slides. I’ll take care of everything. Just make sure you’re dressed professionally. I’ll have you picked up and dropped off, get you all the backstage passes… And you’ll have plenty of time in between presentations to have a look around by yourself.”

Peter nods slowly as he accepts a cup of tea from Pepper. He bites his lip, looking a little nervous, suddenly. “All right. I… uh… I’ll have to check with my aunt, though. I suddenly remember… I have an appointment next weekend but I might be able to reschedule.”

“Oh,” Tony says, already disappointed at the idea that Peter wouldn’t be able to come. “Well, okay. check with your aunt.

They discuss the Stark Expo for a little while as they drink their tea. Peter looks wistful as Tony goes over the whole schedule. “I really hope I can make it,” he murmurs.

“Enough chit-chat,” Tony says, setting his empty cup down. “Shall we?”

Peter nods, getting up.

“Just give me one moment with Tony, please, Peter?” Pepper says.

Peter nods, “sure.” He disappears down the stairs.

Pepper waits until they here a door fall shut in the distance before she breaks the silence. “How much do you know about Peter’s financial situation?” She enquires in a light voice.

“Huh?”

“I’ve only met him a few times, but he always walks around in the same ratty sneakers and threadbare coat.”

Tony waves his hand. “That’s how all teenagers dress these days.”

“Oh, how would you know,” Pepper shoots back with a smile. “Are you ‘down with the kids’?”

“I’ll have you know I am very hip,” Tony informs her.

“Except no one uses the word ‘hip’ anymore,” Pepper assures him, before adopting a more serious tone. “I couldn’t help but notice Peter’s change in demeanor after you told him to ‘dress professionally’.”

“Really? I didn’t notice that.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Pepper bluntly replies. “Maybe you can offer to get him a good pair of shoes? It shouldn’t be a reason for him to miss out on this. He was clearly excited to go.”

Tony tries to remember if he has ever seen any signs of Peter and his aunt struggling financially. He has been to their apartment. Of course it was small. But Tony is so bizarrely rich, that frankly he has sort of fallen out of touch with reality. Honestly, he has no idea how people usually live, let alone that he would notice if someone was living in poverty. He does remember how relieved Peter had been when Tony told him that of course he would be paying him for the internship. And he remembers how Peter didn’t really celebrate his last birthday because, in his words, they ‘just weren’t party people’. Maybe there was another reason, though.

“I’ll think of something,” he promises Pepper.

-

Now, there is one thing that Tony _does_ know, and that’s that money is always, _always_ a sensitive topic. He has learned that you can’t just offer people to transfer a million dollar into their bank account, without them getting incredibly touchy about it.

“By the way,” he tells Peter as they work on a new set of repulsors, “send me a message when you know for sure whether or not you can come, okay? If you can’t come, I’ll have to find someone else to help me. And if you _can_ come, I’ll need to send your data down to security. And if you need new clothes, there is a budget for that.”

Peter blinks. “Wait - really?”

“It’s part of the ‘Fair Labor Standards Act’,” Tony invents on the spot. “The company pays for clothes that are required for the job, including purchase, cleaning and repair costs.”

“Oh,” Peter says. “Okay, then. Do you maybe have a list or something? Because I don’t usually dress fancy and I wouldn’t know what to get or where to get it.”

“I’ll go with you,” Tony offers.

-

And so it happens that, the next day, Tony and Peter step out of the car on Madison avenue. Peter had sent Tony a message last night, assuring him that his weekend was, in fact, wide open. Which means that Pepper was probably right, as per usual.

They enter a fancy store, where a snobbish looking clerk turns up his nose when he lays eyes on Peter, only to pale immediately when he sees Tony.

“S-sir, how may I help you?” He stammers out, rushing past Peter without a second glace.

Tony frowns. “The kid is buying some clothes.”

“Oh,” the clerk says, turning back to Peter. “What do you need, young man? Shall I take your measurements?”

Peter seems a little taken aback. “Uh, I think I’ll just take a look around. Thanks.”

“As you wish!”

The clerk disappears from sight, clearly to Peters relief. “Take my _measurements?_ ” He asks Tony.

Tony shrugs. “Fancy store. C’mon, let’s go for a proper coat, first.”

Now, Tony knows that he needs to strategize carefully. He has to buy Peter some clothes that are fancy enough that they can pass for ‘Stark Expo required’ outfits, but casual enough that Peter will be comfortable to also wear them in his everyday life.

It turns out to be easier than expected, however. Because judging by Peter’s reaction, literally _every_ coat this store has to offer is, to him, the absolute epitome of perfection.

“Woah,” he breathes as he shrugs into one, running his hands across his own sleeves. “That’s so comfy… and look at all the zippers… and – _oh god_.”

“Do me a favor, don’t look at the price tag,” Tony advises.

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t,” Peter murmurs, stashing the tag back into the sleeve with an almost queasy look on his face. “Sir, are you sure I can-“

“Yep. Try this one, it has a hood. Comes in handy.”

They buy everything. A coat, pants, shirts, blouses and sweaters.

“Would you go see if Happy has found a place to park yet?” Tony asks when it’s time to pay. He doesn’t want Peter to faint on the spot when he hears the total.

Peter gives him a bit of a knowing look, but he does leave the store.

“Take all the price tags off, please,” Tony tells the cashier as he hands over his credit card.

-

He dumps the paper bags into the trunk.

“Just one more thing, kid,” he says when Peter almost wants to step back into the car. “You need new shoes.”

“Right,” Peter says, looking down at his ratty sneakers with a tiny frown in place.

Tony steers him towards his personal favorite shoe store, a little further down the street. It is small, slightly disordered, and not as imposing as the clothes store they just came from. Peter looks more relaxed in this environment, too.

“Oooh, hello, Mr. Stark,” a lady calls out as she shuffles through a door leading from the back.

“Hello, Mrs. Katona,” Tony greets politely. “How are you?”

“Just fine, just fine! So lovely to see you. And who is this young man?”

Tony squeezes Peter’s shoulder. “This is Peter, my intern. He needs some proper shoes for work. You know, something classy, but not too flashy?”

“No Gucci sneakers then?” She asks with a tiny smile.

Peter looks alarmed at the mere idea. “No, please!”

“You should see the pair Mr. Stark bought from me last time,” she confides in him.

“Only wore them once,” Tony admits.

Mrs. Katona waves a hand. “Didn’t expect anything less from you. Do you want my advice, or just look around?”

“He’ll start by looking around,” Tony says, sitting down in a chair and stretching his legs. “Right, Pete?”

“I guess,” Peter murmurs. “Though I’m not sure what is appropriate for the Expo.”

Tony shrugs. “This is an excellent store, all their shoes are fine. So just pick a pair that you like. And don’t look at the price tag,” he adds as an afterthought.

Peter doesn’t take long before he returns to Tony with a simple, black pair.

“You want those?”

Peter shrugs.

“Try ‘em on, then.”

Peter sits down, kicking off his old sneakers. “Mr. Stark, can I tell you something?” He murmurs as he pulls at the laces of the new pair.

“As long as it’s not about your love life. No wait, scratch that, I want to know everything about your love life.”

Peter doesn’t smile. “I didn’t have an appointment this weekend,” he murmurs. “I was just worried about the whole clothes situation. Because we don’t have any money. I mean – enough to pay the bills, we’re not starving, but getting new shoes is… is… is complicated.”

“I see,” Tony says, not sure what to do with this information now that it is laid out in the open.

“And I don’t think you realize how big a deal this is for me. I mean, your little ‘Fair Labour Act’ or whatever it’s called, like… that’s me covered for at least two years.”

Tony feels a pang of sympathy. “Peter, if you _ever_ need anything, don’t hesitate to ask me, okay? I know money is… I don’t know… a damn minefield. But I have _so freaking much_ of it, so it’s really no big deal to me.”

“It is a minefield,” Peter agrees, as he puts the shoes on. “I mean, it’s different when it’s company policy and stuff…”

“Hmhm,” Tony says, watching Peter stand up to slowly test his new shoes. “Have I told you about our employee college fund?”

-

Project ‘get Peter some shoes’ has been successful. Peter has turned up to the expo with his new coat, new shirt and new shoes. And he looks comfortable in them.

The Expo is over-crowded. A surprising amount of people have brought little kids. “We’re not a theme park,” Tony complains to Peter. “This is serious business!”

“I loved the Expo when I was a kid,” Peter tells him. “C’mon; robots, gadgets, fireworks… why wouldn’t a kid love this?”

“I didn’t know you came here as a kid?”

Peter grins. “I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

Tony shrugs. “Sure. Last presentation of the day. Want to go see the fireworks, after?”

Peter’s face lights up and he nods. “I would like that.”

“Good. Are my slides ready? Do you know your audio cues?”

“Yes, sir.”

Oh, that’s right. He was supposed to get Peter to call him Tony.

Well – that’ll just be his next project.


	16. Helicopter parenting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their way to the Decathlon semi-finals, Peter gets into trouble. Tony bails him out by being a literal helicopter parent. [Prompt by Magmia_Flare]

“Sir, are you all right? I knocked that guy out, we’re good…”

The man looks up with a pale face. “Spider-Man? Is it you, or a copycat?’

“The only one,” Peter says, giving an awkward little wave.

“I – I thought you only worked in New York?”

“Yeah, well, I was in the neighborhood. But I’d appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone it was me,” Peter says. “Because it might give my identity away to certain people.”

The man nods, his eyes wandering to the big bulky guy on the ground. “Of course - of course Spider-Man. What about him?”

“Police is on their way. I’ll wait here with you until they get here,” Peter says, reassuringly.

The man eyes him up and down, curiously. “How did you call them?”

Peter taps the side of his head. “Live connection to Avengers Headquarters in here. They took care of it. Would you happen to know what time it is, sir?”

The man glances down at his watch, his hands still shaking slightly. “Ten o’clock exactly.”

“Okay,” Peter murmurs, nervously hopping up and down, anxiously listening for police sirens while keeping an eye on the man who is still sprawled out on the ground.

He is in Sommerset, a small town in Pennsylvania. The whole decathlon team is on a two-day road trip to Columbus for the Semi-Finals of the Academic Decathlon. It’s a long journey, so they left yesterday, and spent the night in a hostel in this town. And they had been _explicitly_ instructed to be on the bus by ten o’clock so they could resume their journey. But this morning, just as he was packing, Peter had picked up on a faint cry for help.

“Ned, take my luggage, please?” He had called out, before pretty much jumping out a window, Ned gaping after him.

He had caught some huge, muscly guy towering over an elderly gentleman in a small, deserted alley, and, well… the rest is history.

-

Ned huffs and puffs as he jogs up to the bus with two large bags. “Hey, Mr. Harrington!”

“Hi, Ned. You have a lot of luggage there.”

“That’s Peter’s bag.”

“Where is Peter? Don’t tell me he has disappeared again, because I swear to god-“

“Of course not,” Ned quickly promises. “He’s… he’s already on the bus!”

“Oh – good,” Mr. Harrington says, before setting another little _tick_ on the list he carries. “That makes everyone, then. On you get!”

“Oh,” Ned says, feeling his stomach sink. “Um – can I maybe go to the bathroom first?”

“No, no! We have to get to Columbus in time.

“Sir, yes sir!” Ned squeaks, before rushing onto the bus, reaching for his phone to send a message to Peter.

_Peter, get down here NOW the bus is leaving man!!_

-

Peter glances at the old man’s watch again and would have cursed if it weren’t for this sweet old grandpa standing in front of him.

“You have an incoming call from Tony Stark,” Karen reports.

“Uh, okay,” Peter replies. “Boss is calling,” he explains when the man throws him a puzzled look.

“Hey kid!” Tony says, his image flashing up on the inside of Peter’s suit. “You just never catch a break, do you? I can see on my screen that the police are almost there. Any witnesses?”

“Just the victim.”

“Think he’ll play ball? I’m guessing it’s best to tell the public that Iron Man was responsible for this bit of action. Keep your identity under wraps. I can release a statement later. But the witness has to confirm.”

“Lemme ask,” Peter says, before turning back to the man. “Sir – would you, uh, could you tell the police that Iron Man was the one who knocked the guy out? The whole secret identity thing and all.”

“I won’t get into trouble for that?” The man asks, nervously.

“I promise you won’t. We’ll make sure.”

The man nods. “Well, okay, then. Happy to help you.”

“Okay, Pete,” Tony says. “Guy still out cold?”

“Out cold. Won’t get up for a while.”

“Then this is your cue to get out. Police are less than a minute away.”

“Okay – nice to meet you sir, gotta go bye!” Peter blurts out, before shooting his webs up towards the ridge of a building and pulling himself up and away.

He reaches the roof and begins sprinting towards the large roof ventilator where he hid his clothes earlier. “Uh – Tony? Any chance you can work some magic to stall a bus that is about to leave from the Inn near exit 110?”

A short silence on the other end as Tony squints at his screen for a while. “Bus left, kid.”

“What?’

“Turning onto the highway as we speak. Those your classmates?”

Peter curses out loud, this time. “No, no NO! Mr. Harrington is going to kill me! After I missed the Decathlon last year – he is _so_ going to throw me off the team!”

“Where were you going again?” Tony asks, leaning a little closer towards the screen.

“Columbus.”

“By bus? My god.”

Peter groans and lies down on the roof, flat on his back. “Well, never mind. All is lost.”

“Dramatic, much?”

-

“Ned?” MJ asks. “Where is Peter?”

Ned looks up from his phone with wide eyes. “What… what do you mean? He’s not here?”

MJ folds her arms across her chest, looking unimpressed.

“Sir! Peter is not on the bus!” Abraham yells, and Mr. Harrington almost falls out of his seat. “What? What?” He asks wildly, jumping into the central aisle. “What do you mean? Ned, you said he was here!”

Ned shrugs. “I thought he was. I was a little distracted. Uh, I… I’m in love.”

“Young love is beautiful and precious but this is not the time!” Mr. Harrington shrieks. “Can we turn around?”

The bus driver gives a slow shrug. “I can get off at the next exit and then turn us around, but the next exit is over ten miles away. It’ll cost us at least another hour.”

“We can’t go back for him!” Flash protests. “We’ll be too late for the semi-finals!”

“Oh god,” Mr. Harrington groans, looking pale. “I swore I would never lose another student on a school trip…”

“It’s his own fault,” Flash bites out. “He knew he had to be back on time, but he goes out gallivanting again like he always does.”

Ned looks down when the screen of his phone lights up. “Oh! He’s calling me!”

-

Peter had reached his small pile of clothes and fished out his phone, to see at least a dozen frantic messages from Ned.

“Hey, Ned,” he says wearily when Ned picks up.

“Hey, Peter! Uh – we all thought you were on the bus,” Ned says.

“Everyone standing over you?” Peter guesses.

“Yeah, totally.”

“All right. Look – Tony is coming out here and he’ll drop me off in Columbus. Can you tell people I overslept and I’m really sorry, but I’ll be there?”

“But if he has to come all the way from NY, you’ll be hours late!”

Peter gives a pained sigh, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah – he might be dropping me off in his helicopter.”

“Oh – my – god,” Ned says. “I can’t freak out right now because everyone is looking at me, but oh- my- god.”

 _“What?”_ Peter can hear Flash snap in the background.

“You might as well tell them,” Peter says. “How else am I supposed to explain that I’ll be arriving there at the same time as you? Just tell them Mr. Stark had some business in Columbus anyways, and it’s no big deal, and... whatever you can do to downplay all this, okay?”

“On it,” Ned promises.

He hangs up.

“What?” Mr. Harrington demands. “What?”

“He’s, uhhh… he’s on his way.”

-

“Kid, can you jump? We can’t actually land on the roof if it doesn’t have a helipad. Either that, or we have to set her down in a field somewhere.”

“I’ll jump,” Peter says, tightening his web shooters as he keeps his eyes firmly trained on the approaching helicopter.

“Okay. But when you tell your aunt about this later, we were super-responsible, all right?”

“Deal,” Peter says, before he begins to sprint forwards. He shoots his webfluid up to the helicopter as it hovers over him, and feels his feet lift off the rooftop.

Tony leans out the door to pull him in, and Peter grins widely as he clambers into a seat. “That was awesome.”

“Buckle up, kid,” Tony says in response, and he nods at the cockpit. “That’s Miranda. She’ll be your pilot for today.”

“I’m sorry about this,” Peter offers.

“Hey. Avengers business made you late. Now the Avengers business is getting you there on time,” Tony says, pointing his thumb at himself. “Besides, I’ve _always_ wanted to go to Columbus. Now, let’s see if we can find you a place to land. Where exactly do you need to be?”

-

The bus is parked in front of the library building where the semi-finals are set to begin in less than half an hour. A group of teenagers and a nervous teacher are standing on the sidewalk next to it.

“Oh, just shut up, Ned, we know he’s not really coming in a damn Stark helicopter!” Flash grumbles.

“He is!” Ned insists. “Mr. Harrington, he’ll be here! Don’t put him in reserve yet.” He waves his phone around. “He says he’ll be here in five minutes!”

“Can I talk to him for a moment?” Mr. Harrington asks with a frown.

“He says he can’t get on the phone because of the helicopter noise,” Ned explains.

“How _convenient_ ,” Flash sneers.

“Peter is not a liar,” Mr. Harrington says, although he looks worried. “We wait five minutes.”

“He says he can see the building!” Ned exclaims, looking down at his phone. “He says he’s approaching from the southeast and he has a landing place nearby!”

Mr. Harrington runs around the bus, a group of curious teens on his tail.

“There!” Sally exclaims, pointing. “There’s a chopper coming!”

“That’s not him!”

“I bet you it is!”

Ned dances up and down, still looking at his phone. “He says he has to land nearby but he’ll see us inside!”

“O-okay,” Mr. Harrington say, still looking nervous. “In we go, then.”

Abraham and Jason protest. “But we wanna see it land!”

“No! Come on, we have to get ready.”

-

They are changing into their Midtown Tech shirts when Peter steps into the room, looking incredibly, _incredibly_ awkward.

Mr. Harrington drops everything he was holding. “Peter! Thank god!”

Peter shuffles his feet. “Sir – I’m _really_ sorry.”

“I forgive you!” Mr. Harrington practically wails, throwing both arms around Peter. “You’re alive!”

Peter blinks, looking towards Ned. “Did you tell people I was dead?”

“Not at all,” Ned replies in a dry voice, carefully freeing Peter from Mr. Harrington’s arms and pulling him to the side.

“Yeah, that was a good one,” Flash cuts in. “Great trick. What, did you stash away in the luggage compartment or something?”

“Didn’t you see the chopper?” Sally pipes up.

“I saw _a_ chopper,” Flash corrects. “Bet you he just waited until one showed up. That why he told us to go inside, didn’t he?”

“I should have thought of that,” Peter murmurs quietly at Ned. “Should have told everyone it was just a prank. That would have been way more believable.”

Ned cocks his head. “We can still go along with it if you want? I mean – nothing has happened yet too _ooh my god..._ ”

“Oh, good. I got the right room,” a cheerful voice rings out as Tony saunters in. “Is there a bathroom in this dump? Not for me, but my pilot needs to drop some weight before we head back.”

An utter silence meets his question.

“What’s with the wide eyes? I thought my presence had been announced?” Tony asks, turning to Ned.

“Yes, sir Stark Iron Man sir, I did _announce your presence_ ,” Ned assures him.

“It’s just such an honor sir…” Mr. Harrington stammers, stumbling forward to grab Tony’s hand, pumping it up and down. “Thank you for bringing Peter to us, we’re lost without him!”

Flash snorts, but does not dare to comment anymore.

“I imagine so,” Tony says, looking at Peter with an amused glint in his eyes. “Anyway, bathroom?” He nods his head at Miranda, who has also entered the room.

“Of course, of course, please allow me… Ma’am, I am at your service,” Mr. Harrington assures, and he actually bows at Miranda before leading her from the room.

Tony turns back to look at the Decathlon team.

“Hi,” Abraham says, breathless.

“Hey,” Tony replies. “I don’t really like teenagers. No offense.”

“None taken,” MJ replies. “I don’t like them either.”

That makes Tony smirk. “All right, well, good luck, I suppose. Pete, kick their asses.”

“You’re not staying?” Peter asks, his face falling a little.

“Oh – no, I couldn’t do that to Miranda. And it’s not like I can fly a helicopter by myself. But invite me for the finals, okay? I’ll be happy to come and watch.”

“Okay,” Peter says, looking content. “See you this weekend, then?”

“Of course, kid. Break a leg!”

Tony disappears.

“You _work_ for him?” Jason asks.

Peter sheepishly runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah… Well, intern.”

“And he just flies you all the way over here? Because you _overslept?_ ”

“No, no… He had some business here in Columbus anyways. So, I just got really, really lucky.”

“But he’s going back home now,” MJ points out.

“Yes,” Peter says slowly. “Because his business was just to, uh, drop something off.”

All his classmates look equally disbelieving. Flash just looks frustrated.

“If you say so,” MJ says airily.

‘It’s _true_!”

“Uhuh. If you say so,” she throws him a Midtown Tech Shirt, which lands square on his head. “Now, get changed. We have maybe fifteen minutes, and I want to do a little mental warm-up.”

Peter pulls the shirt away and shoots her a thankful look as she distracts the rest of the group by throwing a bunch of trivia at them.

It’s probably inevitable that his classmates will eventually discover how close he is with Tony. And it’s probably even inevitable that his classmates will eventually discover that he is Spider-Man. Peter has made his peace with that.

But not today. Today he wants to win the Decathlon.


	17. Morgan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Pepper are having a daughter, making Peter wonder where that leaves him. [prompt by usingmymadeupname]
> 
> Tag: Angst

It all starts out with Peter feeling very excited. Tony and Pepper are going to have a baby, and Peter can’t wait. He even gets some books from the library to read up about pregnancy.

“Something you need to tell me?” May asks when she catches him reading them, and Peter sticks his tongue out at her.

Then he moves on to reading about babies and how to care for them. He reads about midnight feedings, about diaper changes and about baby teeth. He reads about how incredibly time consuming a baby really is. That’s the first time he feels something else.

At first, he isn’t sure what it is. He just knows that it feels unpleasant. Tony sends him a picture of their latest sonogram, and Peter kind of doesn’t even want to look at it. That’s when the truth hits him like a sledgehammer. He’s _jealous_. He doesn’t want some stupid baby coming into Tony’s life and taking up all his time and ruin everything.

And then, immediately, he feels something else. Embarrassed. Guilty. Because damn, how immature is he? Tony is having a baby and he is just sitting here, sulking, only thinking about himself? _Grow up Peter_ , he firmly tells himself before sending a happy smiley emoticon back at Tony.

He realizes, once the baby is born, Tony and Pepper are going to need to devote all their time to taking care of it. And the last thing they need is some random teenager from Queens demanding to get their attention. Peter figures he should do the right thing and give them their space.

A few weeks later is the first time when Tony asks him if they can reschedule their usual weekend-workshop session because he ‘has to paint the baby room’. Peter feels that unpleasant pang of jealousy again, but pushes it away. He almost wants to offer to help paint the baby room, but _no_. He had told himself that he would give Tony his space, so that’s what he’ll do.

 _No problem!_ He writes back, sending another smiley emoticon along. _Good luck!_

Tony sends him pictures of the new baby room that evening, and this time Peter can’t bring himself to reply.

-

Eight days earlier than planned, Morgan is born.

Peter doesn’t hear about it until it has already happened. And it’s not even Tony who lets him know; it’s Happy.

_Morgan born. Healthy. Pepper too._

Peter just sits on his bed staring at the message on his phone for about ten minutes, trying to process this unexpected turn of events. _And so it begins._

He sends a card to the compound, even though he feels really stupid about it, because most of Tony and Pepper’s friends are probably buying them hundreds of dollars’ worth of gifts.

He sticks by his plan to _be mature_ and give Tony some space, so he sends a message the next day, saying that he has a lot of homework and he should probably not come to the compound this weekend.

An answer from Tony comes swiftly: _OK kid, see you next time!_

-

Peter is in a foul mood today, vacuuming the apartment with furious motions, banging into chairs as he goes. He has just cancelled on Tony for the second week in a row. And just like last week, Tony has simply responded with an ‘OK, kid!’

Peter knows he is being childish; _he_ is the one calling off their meetings in the first place. But it still stings that Tony doesn’t even want to know why Peter keeps ditching him. He realizes, not without resentment, that Tony is probably just relieved.

“Did our table personally offend you or something?” A voice says from behind him.

Peter turns off the vacuum cleaner and turns to see that May has returned with the groceries.

“You told me to clean, didn’t you?” He grumbles.

“Yes,” May says, setting the paper bag on the kitchen table and beginning to unpack. “Clean. Not use the vacuum cleaner to turn our kitchen table into a tripod. Shouldn’t you be on your way to the Stark Compound already?”

“I’m busy. So I cancelled.”

“Again?” May frowns. “Have you even seen their new baby yet?”

“No,” Peter bites out.

“Peter, you’re being rude,” May points out. “A friend had a baby, and you haven’t even gone by to visit? That’s not like you.”

“I just figured I should give them some space,” Peter mutters, unplugging the vacuum cleaner and rolling up the cord. “I don’t want to take up any of his time right now, he’s probably very busy.”

“Of course he’s busy,” May says, still looking disapproving. “Probably busier than he’s ever been. That doesn’t mean you should just drop off his radar.”

-

Peter steps into the compound's large entrance hall and moves in the direction of the living area. He knows FRIDAY has probably already announced his presence, but he still knocks at the door

“Yeah, yeah, kid, just come in!” Tony’s voice is as light as ever, and Peter feels as though he hasn’t heard it in months. It feels so familiar that he can’t help but smile.

When he steps inside, his smile dies somewhat. The living area is a mess of diapers, bottles, blankets and toys. Tony is sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch, his daughter asleep in his arms. He smiles, but he looks haggard, and it’s immediately clear that Morgan _has_ been taking up all of his time, both night and day.

“Hey, Pete! Good to see you haven’t died.”

Peter ducks his head at the message behind those words. “Yeah. Sorry I didn’t come by earlier. I just had this idea that I should give you guys some space.”

“Come, sit down,” Tony says. “I have _so_ been waiting for this moment! Want to hold her? I really want to take a picture of you two together.”

Peter looks down at the little girl. Her wrinkly face is scrunched up as she sleeps tightly. He immediately feels protective. “Won’t I wake her up?” He asks worriedly.

“Maybe,” Tony admits. “All right. Let’s wait until she wakes up. She never sleeps long, unfortunately, the little bugger.” He smiles, though, his eyes so full of love that it makes Peter swallow.

“I missed ya, kid,” Tony says, looking up at him now, and Peter feels a warmth spreading through him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t really know what to do. I just know that I miss seeing your face around the compound. But I also know I don’t really have the energy for doing the usual workshop routine. Maybe we can think of something else for us to do together for the time being,” he looks back down at the baby girl sleeping in his arms. “I know it’s weird because it’s still super far off, but I already can’t wait for her to be old enough to build her own Iron Baby suit.”

Dread immediately pools in the pit of Peter’s stomach. He swallows as he looks down at Tony and Morgan. “Right,” he murmurs, unable to completely hide the resentment in his tone.

Tony looks up at him now, frowning a little. “Are you okay?”

Peter slowly sits down on the floor next to him, averting his eyes and keeping his arms crossed. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

Peter presses his lips together. He is supposed to be mature. He shouldn’t care that Tony would rather do the workshop-thing with his own daughter. He _shouldn’t_ care. But he does.

“Clearly, you’re not,” Tony says. “Are you in trouble? Is that why you haven’t come by before? You know you can tell me. Morgan keeps me busy, but if you ever _really_ need me-“

“No,” Peter says quickly, feeling guilty again. Because he doesn’t _really_ need Tony.

“Then tell me what’s up. Or should I call your aunt? I’m not letting this go, underoos.”

Suddenly the room feels uncomfortably hot, and Peter swallows. “Well, okay. You’re going to hate me after this, but… I’m really happy for you okay? And for Pepper. But I’m just going to miss spending time with you, and… I don’t know… it’s just weird that there’s another kid in your life now.”

Tony has a deep frown on his face, as if he is trying to solve a particularly complicated riddle. “But… I mean… you’re just my intern, right?”

A feeling of panic floods Peter’s airways. “Yeah,” he manages to say, his heart pounding violently. “Yes. Of course. That’s why it’s stupid. I’m sorry – I should go.”

And he practically flees the building.

-

He arrives home to see no less than seven missed calls from Tony. He turns his phone off and crawls under the covers of his bed. But he is not left in peace for long.

“I have Tony on the phone,” May says, leaning into his room.

“Hang up!” Peter yells, not coming out from under his blanket.

“I’ll talk to him,” he hears May murmur. “How close are you? I’ll leave the door open for you.”

A moment later, Peter feels his mattress dip when May sits down on the edge of his bed. “Peter, what happened? What’s been going on with you, lately?”

Peter doesn’t respond.

“Tony says he’s on his way over here,” May informs him, and that makes Peter turn onto his back and pull the blanket down. “What? No!”

“I’ll tell him to get lost and leave you alone, if you give me a good reason,” May says.

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Haven’t heard a good reason yet.”

“I really messed up,” Peter mutters. “And I just want to hide under my blankets and feel mortified, and not come out for like – let’s give it two months at least, okay?”

May sighs, slowly rubbing Peter’s back through the blanket. “Pete – if you just stayed in bed every time you did something embarrassing, you might as well never come out.

“Uh – way to make me feel better, May!”

“How about I take it from here?” A deeper voice asks, and Peter shoots up, turning around.

Tony is casually leaning against the doorpost.

“Yes, that would be a good idea,” May briskly says, before getting up and leaving the room.

Peter sits up in bed, gaping at Tony. “That was so fast!”

Tony merely raises an eyebrow.

“What about Morgan? You didn’t just leave her, did you?”

“She _does_ have a mother, you know,” Tony drawls and Peter flushes.

“Right. Sorry.”

Tony steps into the room, sitting on the edge of Peter’s bed.

Anticipating an awkward conversation, Peter quickly opens his mouth. “I’m sorry, all right? Can we forget everything I said?”

Tony lightly shakes his head. “Pete – it’s not a big deal.”

 _Well, it is to me!_ Peter wants to scream, but he just clenches his blanket extra tight, instead.

Tony takes off his sunglasses, which he only does when he is about to have a _very_ serious conversation. Peter braces himself. “Look, kid, I think I phrased things poorly before. I didn’t mean to say you’re ‘just’ my intern like it doesn’t mean anything to me. I simply always assumed that was all it meant _to you._ I didn’t expect there would be a whole sibling rivalry going on.”

A sibling rivalry? Peter bristles at the insinuation.

“I had a daughter,” Tony continues. “And yeah, that changes things because she needs my full attention right now. But that doesn’t mean there’s no room for you anymore. For what it’s worth, I’m flattered.”

Peter frowns. “What?”

“It’s nice to know how much our… _time together_ means to you. It means a lot to me, too, Pete, and not a hundred babies could change that.”

“Oh,” Peter says, stupidly.

“But a newborn takes up a lot of time, so it’s going to tip the scales a little for the time being. That’s just how it is.”

“That’s exactly what I thought!” Peter bursts out. “And I had this whole plan! I was going to be all patient, and give you your space and… I’m sorry. You probably think I’m stupid and selfish. I don’t know what happened.”

“What happened is, you’re a hormonal teenager,” Tony drawls, and Peter huffs, crossing his arms.

“Is that why you didn’t visit?” Tony asks. “Because you wanted to give us _space_?”

“I had a plan,” Peter repeats.

“Yeah, your plans suck,” Tony informs him. “Expect when they are based on movies from the seventies or eighties. Next time, talk to someone about what’s happening in your head, okay? Because your thoughts have a tendency to spiral.”

“Okay,” Peter mumbles, ducking his head and pulling at a loose thread in his blanket.

“I have the same tendency,” Tony assures him. “I just learned to deal with it. So… will I see you at the compound this weekend?”

“I thought you said that workshop stuff was too much right now?”

“It is,” Tony agrees. “But we’ll think of something else to do. Something more relaxed. Maybe watch a movie. And I might teach you to change a diaper; make you into a good big brother.”

Peter immediately perks up. “Oh – yes! Maybe then I could help you babysit. I read _loads_ of baby books, FYI. Uh – I know babies gain 4 to 7 ounces a week and they need 12 to 32 ounces of breast milk a day-”

“That’s cool,” Tony says. “Give me the full power point presentation later, okay?”

Peter lets out a laugh at that.

“I gotta get back,” Tony says, leaning in and pulling Peter into a quick hug. “Are we good?”

“Yeah,” Peter murmurs. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Love you, kid. See you later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, before releasing Tony. “I _am_ going to make that power point presentation, you know.”

“Can’t wait,” Tony says as he gets up. “Put plenty of pictures in, all right? I don’t like reading.”

Tony leaves and Peter, grinning, immediately reaches for his laptop. He needs to make an extra cringey power point presentation, with over the top transitions between slides. Because he’s a big brother!


	18. Tony's cleaner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the Avengers are stuck at home. Which leads to an unexpected meeting. [prompt by the_ellum]  
> (tags: identity reveal)

“Ouch – damnit.”

“Careful. Lean on me.”

“I hope you realize this is all your fault,” Sam grumbled, leaning heavily on Steve as they stumbled into the living area.

“How so?”

“You always run too fast. Made me pull a muscle.”

“Hey, you’re a grown-ass man, Sam, you know how to pace yourself. But noooo, you always want to turn our morning jog into a competition. You should have done a warming up.”

“Just put me down on the couch – aargh.”

“I’ll go make a cold compress,” Steve promised, retreating back to the kitchen.

Sam carefully turned onto his back, sinking into the couch cushions.

Steve returned with a cold compress, lifting Sam’s leg a little to push it under his calf. “There, rest it on that for a little while.” He also handed Sam a glass of water.

The elevator doors slid open and a grumpy looking Clint and Natasha stepped into the room.

“Hey! Weren’t you supposed to be on your way home?”

“Yes we _were,”_ Clint confirmed. “Car broke down. Tow truck had to pick it up and take it to the garage.”

“Surely you can borrow one of Stark’s cars?” Steve suggested.

Clint shrugs. “Yeah, but if we leave now, we won’t arrive until after midnight. We’re just going to leave tomorrow. I guess we’re stuck here for another day.”

A door slammed, and Bruce entered the living area, looking disgruntled. “Hey,” he said, looking from one face to the other. “Weren’t you all supposed to be, uh, _gone?_ ”

“Weren’t you supposed to be holed up in your lab all day?” Natasha shot back.

Bruce blew out a breath, sitting down in an armchair. “Chemical spill,” he grumbled, looking frustrated with himself. “I have to wait for the lab to be properly ventilated. It’s throwing my whole work schedule out of whack.”

“Well, join the party,” Clint said. “Anyone a good idea on how to piss some time away now that we’re all stuck here?”

“Nothing that involves any type of movement, please,” Sam grunted from the couch, carefully wiggling his toes around.

Light footsteps descended down the stairs and someone was humming a tune. The unfamiliar noise caught everyone’s attention, and they turned to the doorway. Seconds later, a slender teenager walked into the room, wearing headphones and clutching something red and yellow to his chest. He was humming along to a song, only catching every other word, and casually threw his backpack into a corner as if he owned the place.

“Tony?” The boy yelled out, before turning and coming face to face with the group of Avengers.

“Woah,” the kid breathed, halting in his steps, his hand shooting up to take off his headphones. “Woah – where’d you all come from?”

“Oh, yes,” Natasha said, “ _We’re_ the big surprise. Who are you?”

“Aaaahhhh,” the kid managed, looking as if his brain had frozen over. “I’m… I’m just here for… for the cleaning?” It sounded more like a question than a statement.

“Is that Iron Man’s helmet you’re holding?”

“Yeah, I’m just… dusting it off,” the boy said, looking sheepish. “Because it gets dusty, you know, sitting around in the workshop all day, it’s… yeah…” His voice died away under the stern gaze of the five Avengers staring back at him.

“FRIDAY, please inform Tony that his ‘cleaner’ is walking around the living room with his Iron Man helmet,” Natasha ordered. “Kid – you wanna change that story, or should we just wait for Tony?”

The boy appeared to be thinking about that for a moment. “Let’s wait for Tony,” he then said, as if that was a perfectly acceptable solution to him.

Tony’s voice broke through on the intercom. “Romanoff? Is that a coded message you just send me or something? You know, those things only work when you’ve agreed on codewords beforehand, like ‘carrots’ are ‘aliens’ and a ‘cleaner’ is a-“

“Tony, why is there a child claiming to be your cleaner standing in our living room?” Natasha demanded, interrupting him.

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere in Kentucky by now?”

“We’re leaving tomorrow, instead. Now, spill!”

“Damn,” Tony muttered. “You weren’t supposed to be here. Peter, is that you?”

“Yeah,” The boy said, sounding resigned, now.

“Hang on, I’m on my way up.” Tony disconnected.

“So. Peter, is it?” Steve asked, breaking the silence.

The boy nodded. “Nice to meet you,” he tried, smiling weakly. Steve was the only one who smiled back.

“My god,” Tony said as he marched in. “Are we snowed in or something? Are we quarantined? None of you were supposed to be home this morning!”

“I pulled a muscle,” Sam said.

“My car broke down,” Clint added.

“Chemical spillage,” muttered Bruce.

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Peter murmured, shuffling his feet. “When I got here, the living room was empty. I went downstairs to grab your helmet, and when I came back it was like they had all just materialized out of thin air!”

“Tony, why don’t you introduce us?” Steve suggested, taking a seat on the armrest of the couch.

Tony crossed his arms, adopting a stubborn look. “Everyone; this is Peter, and he’s my cleaner.”

Peter let out a startled laugh at that.

“Look – Tony, it’s fine,” Bruce assured. “We all know you have a past. Frankly, I won’t be surprised if you tell us you have fathered _more_ than one child out there.”

Sam choked on his water and coughed loudly. Steve lost his balance and slid off the armrest, landing on the floor with a dull _thud_. Meanwhile Peter turned a bright red.

“Nice going, Bruce,” Tony remarked. “I didn’t realize you were today’s entertainment.”

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said with a slight frown. “I thought we were all thinking the same thing.”

“I’m Spider-Man,” Peter offered, raising his voice a little to cut through their discussion, and when Tony turned to him with his eyebrows raised, Peter shrugged as if to say _‘why not?’_

“Oh,” said Bruce. “I suppose that would be another explanation.”

Natasha snorted.

“Well, fine,” Tony conceded. “He’s Spider-Man. Tadaa!” He vaguely waved his hands around.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve said, extending a hand.

Peter visibly relaxed at the welcoming response, his face softening, and he shook Steve’s hand. “Thank you, Captain.”

The elevator doors slid open again and Rhodey stepped out,

“Rhodes, what are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to be at City Hall today?”

“Someone pulled the fire alarm,” Rhodey said. “Got the whole damn building evacuated. I’ll try again tomorrow, I suppose. It looks like I’m going to be stuck here for the rest of the day.” He sank into an armchair with a groan, then caught sight of Peter and raised his eyebrows a little, pointing.

“Who’s this?”


	19. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Pepper decide to foster Peter, a boy with selective mutism and a love for ice cream. [prompt by Casey]
> 
> Tags:  
> AU with No Avengers, No Iron-Man, No Spider-Man  
> Mute!Peter  
> Peter is 10 y/o in this.

Pepper pulls the car out of the parking garage and into traffic. She glances into her rearview mirror at Peter.

 _Peter_.

The boy is hugging his teddy bear close to his chest, a serene expression on his face as he watches the buildings roll past.

He had been waiting for a foster family for almost a year, after losing his parents in an airplane crash. It was unusual for children to have to wait that long, but Peter was a difficult case. A complex anxiety disorder has caused selective mutism, which meant that he won’t utter even a single word in front of adults.

And that meant that no other family wanted him.

But Pepper and Tony hadn’t needed words; one look at those wide, brown eyes had made them both fall madly in love. The decision had been an easy one to make. And now, barely a week later, they get to take him home.

“We were going to stop for ice cream, right?” Tony asks, turning in his seat. “Are you up for a nice, big ice cream sundae?”

Pepper glances in the rearview mirror again. She watches how Peter nuzzles the teddy bear’s head with his nose, then nods carefully.

“Good. We have something to celebrate.”

Pepper knows where to go: Tony always insists on going to the same ice cream parlor, even though it’s in a difficult to reach suburb of the city. She turns left.

It’s a Tuesday morning, so the ice cream parlor is quiet. There is only one other family there. Peter presses his nose against the glass near the cashier, looking awfully impressed by the huge selection of ice cream, and especially intrigued by a bright blue colored flavor.

“Really, you want that?” Tony asks, looking at the ice cream with some concern.

Peter nods vigorously.

They find a seat near the window, and Peter smiles widely when he is presented with his bright blue ice cream sundae, immediately taking a spoonful.

He looks happy.

-

Pepper pulls the car out of the school’s parking lot with a heavy heart. Peter sits in the passenger seat, sniffling quietly. His first few weeks of school have been rough. Being the new kid is difficult enough, without throwing mutism into the mix. This is not the first time that Pepper has come to school to find a tearful Peter waiting for her in the teacher’s office.

Ten-year-olds can be cruel, sometimes.

“Did you do any drawing today?” She asks, trying to distract the boy from his thoughts. She knows Peter likes drawing.

Peter nods, still sniffling as he tightly folds his hands together.

“Did you bring it home with you?”

Peter shakes his head.

“You still have to finish it?”

Nod.

“Would you like some ice cream?”

Peter seems to consider that for a moment. Then, he nods.

“Excellent.”

Pepper drives to the usual parlor. The sun is out and they find a seat on the terrace. Pepper gives her boy a kiss on the forehead, wiping the tears away. And when a large, blue sundae is placed in front of Peter, a tentative smile appears on the boy’s face.

“Mrs. Anderson told me she will be calling those boys’ parents tonight,” Pepper says, stirring her coffee. “If they bother you again, you have to let her know, okay? She wants to be on top of it.”

Peter carefully picks the wafer off his sundae, nibbling on it. He looks up her, but doesn’t respond.

“She also told me you’ve been getting on very well with some of the other kids,” Pepper continues, deciding to stick to the good news instead. “You and Michelle built a potato clock together?”

Peter nods, his eyes lighting up a little, and Pepper wants to cry at how relieved that makes her feel. Yes, Peter will make friends.

“Tony will be interested in that,” she says. “But be careful how much you tell him. Because if he gets even the slightest idea that you like science, he’ll drag you down to his workshop to build a model rocket.”

Peter grins, nods. The tears are gone. There is some chocolate sauce on the tip of his nose.

He looks happy.

-

Tony hums a tune as he turns on the engine. The radio immediately blasts a song by Aretha Franklin, drowning out Tony’s humming. “Looks like Pepper has been driving in this,” he says with a wink at Peter, quickly turning the radio down to a more tolerable volume.

Peter has discovered swimming as a new hobby, so today they are going out to buy swim trunks, goggles and whatever else Peter might need to join the swim team.

It’s nice to see Peter passionate about something.

“So,” Tony says. “First things first; how about some ice cream?”

“Okay,” Peter murmurs and Tony almost drives his car off the road.

“Okay,” he repeats, clenching the steering wheel in an attempt to stay calm. “Okay… uh… then I.. turn right here.” The realization that he just heard Peter’s voice for the first time is crashing over him like a tidal wave. He wants to pull over and do a celebratory dance; maybe a cartwheel. But he can’t make a big deal out of it, because he knows that would throw Peter off.

So he does the celebratory dance on the inside.

It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon. The ice cream parlor is crowded. Tony and Peter barely manage to secure a spot in the back. They have to wait a little longer than usual, but Peter gets his bright blue sundae.

He still looks as pleased with it as he did the first time, running his finger along the side of the glass bowl to scoop up some blue droplets of melting ice cream.

Tony only gets an espresso, and Peter pulls a disgusted face just looking at it.

“You’re one to talk,” Tony shoots back. “With your unnatural smurf-color ice cream.”

Peter sticks his tongue out at him. A blue tongue.

“So what color swim trunks do you want?”

Peter holds up the spoon. “Blue.”

Tony smiles. Peter grins.

He is happy.

-

“There they are!” Tony booms as Peter pulls the car door open, crawling into the back along with his friend Ned. “You sure took your time!”

Ned pulls at the seat belts. “Were you waiting a long time?”

“No, it’s fine. How was the movie?” Tony asks

“Good,” Peter says.

Ned nods. “There were a lot of explosions. A _lot_.”

“Hm. How did Pepper like that?”

“I think she fell asleep,” Ned says. “I couldn’t see with the 3D goggles and she says she didn’t, but I think she did.”

Peter giggles.

“Is she still sleeping now? Did you leave her?”

“She went to the bathroom,” Ned says.

“Well, then we might as well order a pizza to be delivered to this parking space, because she always takes her sweet time with that.”

Pepper’s face suddenly appears in front of the rolled-down window. “I heard that.”

“Whoops,” Tony says. “How was the movie?”

“Lovely,” Pepper says, stepping into the front seat.

“Yeah? What was your favorite part?”

Pepper merely rolls her eyes, a telling expression on her face. Tony watches her glance at Peter in the rearview mirror, like she always does when they are in the car together. She probably didn’t care much for the movie. But she always has a thing about wanting to see Peter hang out with his friends.

Pepper turns to see Tony looking at her, and she smiles. “All right,” she says, clapping her hands together. “What’s next?”

“Ice cream!” Peter says.


	20. May Parker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Avengers catch Tony secretly visiting some lady in Queens, they decide to investigate. [prompt by Miiam & EmilyWeaslette]  
> (Tags: identity reveal)

“Well, I have to hand it to Spider-Man, this is some excellent carrot cake. Coffee isn’t bad either.”

Clint hums in agreement as he takes another large bite. He and Nat have escaped the Avengers Compound to visit a tiny café in Queens that Spider-Man had recommended to them.

“Do you think he secretly owns this place?” He suggests. “And he’s just trying to bump his clientele by roping famous people into eating here?”

Nat narrows her eyes, glancing around, and scrutinizing the slender, red-haired barista in particular. “Interesting notion.”

The café is located on a quiet side-street off Queens Boulevard. It seems like the kind of place that mostly tends to regulars, although, to his credit, the barista had served them politely without freaking out and asking for a selfie.

There is a nervous young waitress dawdling near the bathroom door, though. Steve is in there doing a number two, which apparently makes him no less irresistible to women.

“Hey – what’s Tony doing here?”

Nat turns to the window to see Tony just casually strolling down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street, a small paper bag in his hand.

“Visiting his mistress,” she jokes.

Tony stops in front of a low-rise apartment building right across the street from them, lifting his hand to ring the doorbell. After a few seconds, a balcony door opens on the second floor, and a woman with long brown hair steps outside, leaning on the balustrade. Natasha is already regretting her ‘mistress’ joke.

Tony looks up at the woman, holding up the paper bag and gesturing at it.

“Please, honey, don’t be mad,” Clint mimics Tony’s voice. “Of course I love you more than my real wife. Look - I bought you a big-ass diamond.”

“What are you doing?” Steve asks, sitting back down.

“A little puppet-show,” Clint replies, pointing his fork towards the window. “What do _you_ think they’re saying?”

Steve glances outside and frowns. “Who is she?”

“Dunno.”

The woman disappears back into the house, and a moment later, Tony is able to push the front door open and enter the building, disappearing from sight.

“Looks like their lover’s spat has been resolved.”

“Are you insinuating that there is some sort of inappropriate relationship going on between those two?” Steve asks in his stern-grandfather voice.

“I’m not insinuating a thing,” Clint says, grinning as he takes another big bite of pie. “M’just having fun.”

They finish their coffee and pies, but don’t want to leave, because Tony still hasn’t come back out. So they order more food, and more coffee, and even more food, until the door finally opens again and Tony steps outside. Without the paper bag, this time.

“Almost forty minutes,” Clint says, glancing at a clock. “Hmmm… what can you do in forty minutes? _Twice_?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Steve tells him.

-

One week later, the three of them return to the exact same café. None of them said it out loud, but Clint is pretty damn sure that they all want to know the same thing: Will Tony be back? In fact, judging by the damn _binoculars_ Natasha brought with her, she is planning to do a whole lot of observing today.

“Are those the binoculars with the extreme close focus feature?”

“Yup.”

“What exactly are you hoping to see?” Clint asks with a smirk.

“Shut up Clint, you pig.”

“He’s back!” Steve says, pointing.

Tony is walking down the street again.

“He didn’t bring a present,” Clint observes.

“No,” Natasha murmurs, lifting the binoculars. “Here we go… He’s ringing the doorbell. Second or third doorbell from the top.” She sets down the binoculars and takes out her phone. “That means he is either visiting a… May Parker or a Rico Gonzalez. Let’s assume her name is not Rico Gonzalez, hmm?”

“How do you know that?” Steve asks.

Natasha turns her screen towards him. “Took a picture of all the doorbells and nameplates earlier.”

“You’re both insane,” Steve states.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t here for exactly this.” Clint tells him.

May Parker doesn’t appear on the balcony this time. Tony is immediately buzzed in.

“A weekly appointment,” Clint says. “Interesting… Any theories that aren’t supposedly ‘inappropriate’, Cap?”

“Maybe she’s his therapist,” Steve suggests.

Clint frowns thoughtfully. “Hmm. Not a bad suggestion. That would certainly explain why he never told us about these little visits.”

“Nope,” Natasha cuts in, tapping away at her phone. “She’s not a therapist. She works as a translator. _Parla Italiano_.”

“Nat!” Steve protests. “What databases are you hacking right now?”

“Is she married?” Clint asks.

“Hmmm… widowed.”

“Give me that,” Steve says, reaching out and snatching Natasha’s phone from her hands. “This is an invasion of privacy, Mrs. Romanoff! I’m confiscating this phone.”

“Don’t you want to know what he’s doing?”

Steve puts the phone into a pocket. “No. It’s his business.”

“What about Pepper? Don’t you think she ought to know?” Clint argues.

“You’re still convinced that Stark is sleeping with this woman?”

“Uh – YEAH.”

-

Steve knows, he _knows_ that Clint and Nat are just being dramatic about the whole situation. But he still can’t stop thinking about Tony’s sneaky visits to Queens. So a few days later, he drives down there himself and rings the doorbell to May Parker’s apartment.

The intercom crackles. “Hello!” A youthful voice calls out.

“Um,” Steve says, a little thrown by hearing a young man’s voice. “Sorry, I was looking for May Parker.”

“She went out. Do you have a delivery? I can sign.”

“No – I – When will she be back?”

“Just a few minutes, I think. Do you want to wait inside?”

Steve lets out a breathy laugh. “You shouldn’t buzz strange men into your building, kid.”

“Trust me,” the voice firmly says. “If you’re looking for trouble, I can handle you.”

Steve is pretty sure that, whatever jujitsu expert this kid is, he _can’t_ handle Steve. But hey, if he insists…

“All right,” he says. “I’d like to wait inside, yes. Thank you.”

He is buzzed in and takes the stairs to the second floor, following the arrow that indicates number 28-4.

A teenager with curly brown hair and an oversized hoodie is waiting in the doorway. His mouth drops open when he sees Steve. “Cap- captain America?” He stammers.

Steve gives a curt nod. “How are you?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to your mother.”

“You need to talk to my mother,” the boy slowly repeats.

“Correct.”

The teen gives him a long, assessing stare. Then he steps aside. “Come on in.”

“Thank you.”

Steve enters the small apartment, stepping straight into the living room. He unzips his jacket but doesn’t take it off.

“Have a seat,” the boy offers, gesturing towards the ratty couch. He still looks at Steve as though he is a ghost apparition, but Steve is pretty much used to that by now.

“Thanks. I’m Steve. What’s your name?”

“Peter,” Peter says, moving to the kitchen on the other side of the room. “Uh – do you want some coffee or tea or something?”

“Just a glass of tap water would be nice.”

Peter opens a cabinet and grabs a glass.

Steve eyes the kid up and down, wondering if he should get the boy involved in this whole mess. “Say. Have you ever met Tony Stark?”

Peter drops the glass into the sink with a _thunk_. Thankfully, it doesn’t sound like anything has broken.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

Peter throws him a furtive glance, before picking up the glass and filling it with water. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m just curious.”

Peter approaches and sets the glass down in front of Steve. “Why?”

“It’s important. How do you know him, exactly?”

Peter stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I’m not supposed to tell you,” he murmurs and Steve’s sense of foreboding grows.

“Does Tony know you’re here?” Peter asks, tentatively pulling out a chair out from the table to sit down, too.

Oh, so it’s ‘Tony’ to this kid, is it? “Not exactly.”

“Okay, well then I’ll just drop him a message if you don’t mind,” Peter says, taking out his phone, and Steve panics because that wasn’t exactly part of the plan.

“Okay – sure,” he reluctantly says. “Although I was hoping to deal with this without his involvement.”

Peter blinks at him. “Deal with _what,_ exactly?”

“That’s what I’d like to discuss with your mother.”

“She’s my aunt, actually,” Peter says, dropping his eyes back down to his phone.

“Oh,” Steve says, trying to work out in his head how all the pieces fit together. “Don’t worry, I won’t be arresting anybody.”

The teen scoffs. “Damn right, you won’t.”

The screen of his phone lights up, and he quickly picks up. “Hey, Tony? No – I wasn’t kidding. He’s right here. … Okay.”

He extends the phone to Steve. “Tony would like to speak with you.”

Steve presses his lips together, but he does take the phone. “Hello?”

“Rogers,” Tony bites out. “What are you doing there? How the hell did you know?”

Steve sighs. _There it is_. “I was in a café across the street with Nat and Clint and we saw you go in here. Twice.”

“So?” Tony barks, sounding incredibly frustrated. “That could mean anything – hell, it could mean I’m having extramarital relations with the kid’s aunt!”

“Well, yes, that – wait, what?”

“I’m just saying, how do you go from seeing me enter some building, to then suddenly knowing the name and address of Spider-Man?”

_The name and address of Spider-Man? Of Spider-Man?_

“Oh…” Steve says, his eyes flashing to Peter, “…my God.”

In that moment, there is the sound of a key in the lock, and May Parker steps into the living room, her eyebrows shooting up when she sees him.

“Peter, you didn’t tell me your Avenger friend was coming over for dinner!”

-

“So,” Steve says, entering the library where Clint and Natasha are both working behind their respective laptops. “I confronted May Parker today. Rung her doorbell.”

Clint and Natasha immediately sit up. “And?”

“It’s worse than we thought,” Steve says with a somber expression. “Not only is Tony having an affair, he has fathered a _child_.”

Clint’s mouth drops open. “Are you shitting me?”

“No. I met him today. Nice kid.”

A short silence descends.

“Maybe Pepper knows about it,” Natasha says.

Steve shakes his head. “I asked them. They begged me not to tell her.”

“Damn,” Clint swears. “What do we do?”

“This is heavy,” Natasha mutters. “But we have to do the right thing.”

“Tell Pepper?”

“We can talk to Tony, first,” Natasha reasons. “Give him a chance to come clean.”

“Tony is in the living room,” Steve says. “So, now is your chance.”

“Let’s rip off the band aid,” Natasha says, giving Clint a little push to make him stand up.

“I don’t want to get caught in the middle of a lovers’ quarrel,” Clint complains, but he does follow Natasha and Steve out.

When they reach the living room, they see that Tony is not alone. There is a teenager sitting on the couch next to him, and the infamous May Parker is just casually sitting in an armchair, sipping tea.

“Ah,” Tony says when he catches sight of Clint and Natasha. “Well – because you couldn’t keep your nose out of my business, let me formally introduce: May and Peter Parker.”

“Hi,” Peter says.

Clint and Natasha stare.

“Tony,” Clint finally murmurs. “Does – uh – does Pepper know they are here?”

Tony looks confused. “Pepper’s at a conference. I don’t need her permission for _everything_ , you know.”

Another beat of silence.

“I’m Peter,” Peter says, breaking it. He is clearly uncomfortable with the awkward tension in the room.

May gives a little wave. “And I’m Spider-Man’s aunt.”

Clint is pretty sure that he heard that wrong. “You’re Spider-Man’s aunt?”

“Yes.”

Clint turns to Tony. “You’re in love with Spider-Man’s aunt? And had a _child_ with her?”

“What?” Tony says. “What? _What_? Steve, what did you tell them?”

And that’s when Steve loses it, bursting out laughing and pounding Clint on the back. “That’s what you get for dragging me along with your crazy conspiracy theories,” he says gleefully. “Sorry, buddy. There’s no secret affair and this is not Stark’s illegitimate son.”

He then has to explain the whole story twice before Clint and Natasha are able to make sense of it. But when they finally do, they look simultaneously frustrated and relieved as hell.

“Serves you right for thinking I’d cheat on Pepper,” Tony tells them, looking amused.

“So, you actually went to that café I recommended to you?” Peter asks, excited. “Did you try their Lemon Meringue Pie?”

Tony shakes his head. “ _That’s_ your take-away from this whole story?”

“They have _very_ good pie,” Peter stressed.

“I could go for some pie,” Natasha murmurs. “After all this. And a good way to get to know each other, too.”

Tony looks speechless for a moment. “Well, sure,” he then says. “Let me go grab my coat.”


	21. Big brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan appears to be the same kind of tech prodigy as Tony is. Peter isn’t sure if he should be happy about it. [prompt by divizna999]

Morgan had long outgrown experiments like layering liquids and baking soda volcanos. She was showing technical abilities way beyond the level of the usual eight-year-old. Yeah, she definitely took after her dad.

Peter was pretty sure she wasn’t ready for calibrating the accelerometer in Iron Man’s suit, though. So when Morgan wandered into the workshop as Peter and Tony were working together, he gave a quick cough to alert Tony to her presence.

“Hello Maguna!” Tony said, dropping his tools to the table and ruffling her hair. “Are you curious what dad and Peter are doing?”

She nodded, her eyes scanning the holographic screen hovering above the workbench with clear curiosity. “Can I watch?”

“You’ll get bored,” Tony said. “And we really need to focus, okay, honey?”

Morgan gave a recalcitrant little kick against the table.

“Go read the book I gave you yesterday,” Peter suggested.

Morgan merely huffed, as if reading were most definitely beneath her.

“Come on, young lady,” Tony said, putting a hand on her shoulder and steering her back towards the door. “You know this is workshop time. But we’ll do something together later.”

“I want to build stuff, too,” Peter heard Morgan complain when she was already in the doorway.

Tony knelt next to her. He spoke softly, but Peter could hear him nevertheless. “What stuff do you want to build?”

“Dunno. Big guns.”

Tony snorted. “Come up with something better, and I’ll consider it.”

“Small guns?” Morgan suggested.

Peter tuned them out and turned away. He couldn’t help but feel annoyed. He understood perfectly well that Morgan had a drive to build and design tech, just like Peter and Tony. But he would be really bummed out if Morgan suddenly took up _his_ workshop-time with Tony. He didn’t have that much time left, anyway. He was going to college next year, and Morgan would have Tony and Pepper all to herself. Until then, Peter wanted to make the most of his time at the compound.

He was still silently brooding when Tony suddenly reappeared in his field of vision. Morgan had disappeared. Tony continued with his work, but he looked contemplative and Peter just _knew_ he was thinking about Morgan.

“Morgan really takes after us, doesn’t she?” Tony asked with a fond look on his face.

“Oh, yes,” Peter grumbled. “She sure is oh so _very smart…”_

Tony looked a little startled, then smiled. “Is someone feeling intellectually threatened?”

“Um, _no_ ,” Peter protested. “She’s eight.”

“Listen,” Tony said. “I have a proposal.”

_Why don’t you just share your workshop time with Morgan from now on?_

“You’re almost eighteen.”

_So you’re going to be out of here soon, anyways._

“I think it’s about time you get a little more responsibility from me.”

“Okay…” Peter said, narrowing his eyes as he tried to figure out where Tony was going with this.

“You know the safety protocols. You can work unsupervised. And I don’t want Morgan to feel left out. So how about you pick a time in the week where you and she can maybe build some stuff together.”

Peter blinked. “You mean, just me and her? Alone? Without you?”

“If you feel comfortable with that,” Tony said. “I think it would be great if _you’re_ the one to show her the ropes. Brother-sister-time and all that. Until you leave for college, then I’ll probably have to take over for you. I trust you to supervise her properly. And I think you might have a better grasp of what she could be interested in at her age.”

“Oh,” Peter said, immediately cheering up. “Yeah. Yes. That would be cool.”

-

“All right, now here’s out circuit board. And here is our transistor, which we’ll connect to our 9 V battery...” Peter was carefully talking Morgan through making her first electric field detector. She had been giving the project her full attention, sticking her tongue out a little as she carefully connected wires together.

“You’re doing so well!” Peter complimented. “We’re almost done!”

“I’m gonna miss you when you go to college, Petey,” she said, pouting a little.

“I’ll miss you too,” Peter promised. “But it’ll be fun. You’ll have your mom and dad to yourself, and you can build things with Tony in the workshop all the time.” It was funny how he been grumpy about that very thing before, but now he was using it to comfort Morgan.

“I don’t want to build stuff with dad,” Morgan muttered, scrunching up her nose. “He takes everything way too seriously. I want to build stuff with you!”

Peter reached out to tug at a strand of her hair. “You should listen to Tony. Before you know it, you’ll be going off to college, wishing you had spent more time with him.”

Morgan didn’t look terribly convinced. But she didn’t protest, either.

“Come on. You want to show your project to Pepper and Tony? They’d like to see it, I’m sure. And then we can test it together.”

“Okay,” Morgan said, carefully scooping up the electric field detector.

And they left the workshop, side by side.


	22. Mood swings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is stressed and takes it out on Tony. [Prompts by Malya & Vioet7]

A loud noise shattered the silence as Tony turned on his high-power laser, aiming it at his own helmet lying on the workbench, and Peter felt like his head was splitting in two. Where the hell had Tony gotten the idea to do _this_ of all things right now, when Peter was working on some pretty damn advanced coding for his suit’s AI?

“Hey!” He yelled.

Tony turned off the laser. “D’ya say something?”

“Do you have to do that now? I’m doing something that requires a lot of attention,” Peter complained, his tones more snappish than he had intended. He had been troubled by a persistent headache all day. All week, in fact. And he had barely slept last night.

“So, go to my office,” Tony suggested, giving a cheeky wink. “Or forget about that coding and come play with some lasers.”

“You said you wanted Karen’s update up and running by tomorrow!”

“That was just a suggestion.”

Peter felt anger wash over him. Then what had he been slaving away for, these last few weeks, when he could have been doing homework like he was supposed to? He threw his pen to the table. “Oh – NOW it’s a suggestion? When I’m already nearly done? With all the homework I’ve been doing in the middle of the night these past weeks? Thanks a lot!”

“Hey,” Tony said with a frown. “What’s with the hissy fit? Nothing you do here is an obligation, you know. Your homework is your first priority. This is just… an extracurricular activity.”

 _That_ felt like a slap in the face. Peter’s mouth dropped open.

Tony gave a tired wave. “Don’t give me _that_ look. You know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just telling you to prioritize.”

Peter turned back to his work without replying, his motions stiff. He had exams coming up, and his last few grades hadn’t been great. He probably should have been studying more. The thing was, though, the more he studied, the fuzzier his brain became. It was like the more he read, the more he forgot. And he had been going out of his way to get these calculations for Karen finished like Tony had told him a few weeks ago. It hadn’t exactly sounded like a suggestion back then, not to Peter at least. He squinted at the screen of Tony’s laptop as he rammed the spacebar a few times. Why wasn’t his damn code working out as they should?

“Hey,” Tony said, suddenly standing much closer to him. “You know, that’s an expensive laptop. Perhaps you shouldn’t be working with expensive equipment if you’re in a mood like this. Why don’t you help me carry those boxes over there down to the garage? I’d like to get that done today, before I go away with Pepper this weekend.”

Peter was surprised to feel a sudden wave of panic overtake him. He wasn’t sure where the feeling was coming from. “The last thing I need right now is _another_ job from you,” he bit out.

Tony’s look darkened and he planted his hands on the desk, looking straight at Peter. “I don’t appreciate your tone today, kid. If you’ve got that much homework to deal with, then you shouldn’t be here in the first place. I’m here if you want to work on your projects, but it’s not my job to deal with your mood swings. I suggest you go home and come back when you’ve grown up.”

“Oh, _you’re_ one to talk about being a grown-up!” Peter snarled, before grabbing his backpack and storming out of the room.

-

May wasn’t home. Peter threw himself onto his bed, grabbing his phone and beginning to browse through an endless supply of YouTube videos. He wanted to be distracted. He didn’t want to think about anything right now, because if he stopped to think about things, he thought he might just start blubbering all over his pillow.

Because Tony was right. Peter _had_ been throwing a hissy fit for no good reason at all. And it wasn’t his first one. He had already gotten into several fights with his friend Ned and with his aunt May this week. He felt like everyone was out to annoy him, lately. But maybe it was him?

Ned and May would come around and forgive him. But it wasn’t as easy with Tony. He had never really had a fight with Tony before, so he didn’t have that reassurance that they would be able to work past it, no matter what.

He should probably be mature and go talk to Tony. Peter grabbed his backpack, pulling it closer to the bed and digging around for his phone. He hesitated a little, but then looked for Tony in his contacts and dialed, his heart fluttering nervously in his chest. As his phone kept dialing, he clenched his pillow tighter and tighter.

He got sent to voicemail and hung up without leaving a message, his throat feeling like it was closing off. He dialed again, but the call went to voicemail a second time.

Tony was refusing to pick up.

Well, that was just totally completely _fine_. It wasn’t like Peter cared what Tony thought of him, anyway.

Suddenly, he wanted to talk to May. Apologize for being short with her this morning. May would never ignore his phone call, not even when she was in an important meeting. He wanted to send Ned a message, too, and ask if he wanted to hang out.

But he didn’t to any of those things. He just looked at more cat videos on YouTube.

Until there was a knock on the door.

Peter pushed himself to his feet and padded to the front door. When he opened it, he was met with the welcome sight of Tony leaning against the doorpost.

“Hey kid,” he said, his eyes lingering on Peter’s hair that was no doubt standing up after having been in bed for the past hour. “Doing homework?”

Peter scowled. Didn’t Tony realize that this was no time to be making jokes?

“Are you going to invite me in?”

Peter stepped aside, then followed Tony into the living room. Tony sat down in a chair next to the kitchen table, not saying anything yet. Peter shuffled forward and sat down, too, feeling apprehensive. Part of him was happy that Tony was here, but the man’s silence made him nervous. Tony didn’t look like he was planning to break the silence any time soon. He was just scrutinizing Peter like he was an interesting flesh-eating bacterium under his microscope.

“You didn’t answer my call,” Peter blurted out.

“Well, I was behind the wheel, on my way here.”

“Oh,” Peter said, feeling something heavy lift off his chest. “Right.”

“You thought I was ignoring you?” Tony sharply asked.

“No,” Peter lied, shifting in his seat and wringing his hands together. “I’m really sorry about being such a dickwad today,” he offered.

Tony gave a jerky nod. “I shouldn’t have thrown you out.”

“No, I probably deserved that.” Peter muttered, pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging his legs as he looked at Tony, worry rising in his chest again. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, lately.”

“What makes you think there is something wrong?” Tony asked, his tone far gentler, now.

“I just… I’ve been in a really bad mood, because everything is going wrong lately. I need to study for my exams, but I keep getting these headaches, and I feel really tired, but then when I finally go to bed, I can’t sleep.”

“Sounds like the textbook symptoms for stress,” Tony surmised. “You don’t need to study. What you need is a day off.”

“Maybe,” Peter murmured. “So, I suppose it’s good that you sent me home. I’ll just try and get some sleep, and come back another time.”

“That’s not good enough,” Tony stated.

Peter nervously hunched his shoulders. “What do you mean?

“Where’s your aunt right now?”

“At work.”

“Do you think she’d mind if I steal you away for the weekend?”

“Uh… why?”

“Because you need to clear your head. So, you should come with me and Pepper this weekend. I got a cute little place near lake Mohawk. Great for swimming. Do you think your aunt will object?”

Peter didn’t know where to start. “Are you… Do I… I mean… I don’t think so. You’re inviting me? After the way I yelled at you?”

Tony’s lips quirked into a smile. “Well, Pepper yells at me all the time, and she gets to come.”

“Shouldn’t you ask her first before you invite me? She might not like me intruding on your weekend.”

Tony waved a hand. “Please. Pepper loves you. I’ll give her a call, though. Meanwhile you call your aunt. That is, if you _want_ to come, of course.”

“I thought my mood swings weren’t your problem?” Peter joked.

Tony actually looked frustrated at that. “I shouldn’t have said that. I mean, I suppose they aren’t my problem, really. But that doesn’t mean I can’t help. And I should have asked you if you were okay. You were clearly not yourself today. But forget about all that. You want to come or not?”

“Yes,” Peter said, from the bottom of his heart.

-

The drive to Tony and Pepper’s lake house was only about an hour. But even so, Peter managed to fall asleep in the backseat. He awoke when they were already there, and Pepper gently squeezed his leg. “You can sleep more inside,” she promised.

Peter did. He slept a full three hours until dinner time, which was more sleep than he had gotten last night. Tony made a fish curry for dinner, which Peter found hilarious, because he never would have imagined that Tony knew his way around the kitchen.

“As far as the other Avengers know, I don’t,” Tony replied when Peter brought that up. “So let’s keep it between ourselves, hm? I don’t want to have to start cooking for everyone once a week.”

Tony absolutely forbade him to take out his school books that evening, instead dragging him outside to drink hot cocoa while overlooking the moonlit lake.

“Thank you, Tony,” he murmured, clasping his hands around his hot mug. “You didn’t have to be so nice to me.”

“Who else am I supposed to be nice to?”

Peter merely smiled, lifting the mug to take a sip of hot cocoa. Crickets were chirping all around him. A large bird soared across the dark lake.

He suddenly realized that his headache was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little FYI: I currently have a list with prompts from 55 people. I have now used 25. So if yours is still coming up, you have an idea of where we are at :)


	23. Flying spiders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter discovers a new ability. Tony steps up to help him master it. [prompt by Frost_Nova]  
> Tags: Wingfic (more or less). AU where Spider-Man can fly.

Tony found Peter in the living room, behind his laptop, his chin resting on his hand as he gazed contemplatively at the screen.

“Hey kiddo. Didn’t hear you come in. What are you doing?”

“Researching flying spiders,” Peter mumbled.

“Biology project?”

“Not exactly. Although there is some interesting scientific discussion going on over here, so I’m actually kinda thinking about doing some research about it, myself. The thing is, I discovered I can fly. So I’m trying to get some information about how that works. Funny enough, scientists don’t actually _know_ how it is possible that some spiders can fly. Some say they use their silk as a sort of parachute, but others suggest they are using the earth’s electromagnetic field. Isn’t that cool?”

“Excuse me,” Tony says, “back up a few sentences. You discovered you can _what_ now?”

“Fly. Sort of. It’s more like…. gliding. Honestly, I prefer to just swing around, it goes way faster. But of course, I can run out of web fluid, which is a whole other issue I’ve been trying to work on. I have this new formula for web fluid that might make it possible to compress it even further so I can put more of it in my web-shooters-“

“Stop changing the subject!” Tony interrupted impatiently. “You can fly? You can _fly_?”

“’Can’ is a big word. I was swinging around the city, and misfired a web so I fell down and then it just sort of happened. I’d never noticed it before. So then I went up to this high building and jumped off-“

“As one does…”

“Hey, I had my web shooters ready! But I didn’t need them because the flying thing kicked in again and I could just sort of steer myself to another rooftop and land there. But that’s all, I haven’t exactly mastered it, yet.”

“Well. Let’s change that, shall we?”

-

“Tony, I’m not sure about this.”

“If anything goes wrong, I’ll catch you.”

“When did we decide _you_ should be the one teaching me how to fly? You can’t even fly yourself!”

Tony fired up his thrusters, moving closer until he hovered face to face with a nervous-looking Spider-Man. “You were saying?”

Peter was sitting on the edge of a high building, overlooking New York. His arms were firmly crossed and Tony could imagine the pout going on behind that mask. “That’s just your stupid tech. _You_ don’t have any actual powers.”

“Kid, I love you, but call my tech ‘stupid’ again, and I’m banning you from my workshop for life.”

Spider-Man huffed.

“Come on – Didn’t you just casually jump off a high building yourself?”

“It wasn’t _this_ high. And it was late, so there weren’t any people watching,” Peter said, pointing down towards the street where a small clutter of curious New Yorkers had stopped to see what Spider-Man and Iron-Man were up to. “I don’t want to look stupid in front of everybody!”

With the insane amount of Spider-Man blooper videos circulating around the internet, Tony was pretty sure that _that_ ship had sailed. He wisely kept his mouth shut, though. “You won’t look stupid,” he promised. “You’ll look cool!”

Peter tentatively got to his feet, tugging at both his web shooters to make sure they were secured. “All right,” he said, taking a deep breath. He took a few steps back, then sprinted forward and jumped.

He had to suppress his instinct to immediately shoot a web, spreading his arms wide as he plummeted down. Then, he felt a welcome tug behind his navel as if the wind had caught him in his fall, and suddenly he was gliding, soaring past the buildings and feeling pretty damn majestic.

“It’s working!” Peter yelled out, excitedly. “It’s working! It’s - - _shit_ …” He steered left too late and grazed a building, losing his graceful balance and suddenly tumbling down to the street. He lifted an arm to fire his web shooter, but Tony was quicker, swooping in to pluck him from the air and then flying back to the roof to set Peter down.

“Interesting,” Tony said, lifting his face plate. “I saw some strands of silk forming between your arms and your sides. I suppose those help you float.”

“Wow,” Peter said, looking down at his arms. “So I have, like, wings?”

“In a way, I suppose. Want to try again?”

“Yes!”

-

Tony stretched down on the couch, sipping coffee as he carefully massaged his bruised upper arm. He had had to catch Peter about five or six times, but the kid had really gotten a hang of it in the end. It wasn’t easy for him to manoeuvre around or steer himself as he flew, but still; this new ability came in very useful, even if only to help Peter save up on his web fluid.

Peter had gone home to do his homework, but they had agreed to meet on the same rooftop tomorrow to do some more practice. Tony was going to make sure that Peter would learn to use his ability to the fullest.

Oh, and of course, he also made sure to share a new, already trending video with Peter: _Spider-Man attempts to fly – blooper reel_.


	24. Grounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is certainly not the worst injury Peter has sustained during a mission. But Tony doesn’t need to know that. [prompts by Titania_Fernweh & Jaternal]

Peter landed on the roof of a bank, carefully limping into the shadows and sitting down, pressing one hand over the bullet hole on the right side of his abdomen. Well, this was the third time he had ever gotten shot. Was that a mile stone? Should he maybe throw a little jubilee party? His leg was killing him, too. After getting hit by the bullet, he had landed less than gracefully on some balcony and really twisted his ankle. He knew from experience that the sprain would take longer to heal than his bullet wound.

He heard Iron-Man land behind him, his heavy boots clunking against the roof. “Christ. I should have left you at home. This was more chaotic than I had expected. Bullets flying everywhere.”

 _What else is new?_ Peter thought, but he said: “Yeah, that was really scary.” Because he had sort of never told Tony that he had already been shot three times, and he didn’t want his mentor to go into his overprotective mode.

Which Tony still _did,_ anyway. He knelt in front of Peter, lifting the face plate. “Are you okay? You’re bleeding. You weren’t hit, were you?’

“It’s okay,” Peter murmured. “Just a graze from some shrapnel. It’s already healing. My ankle is worse, honestly. I think I sprained it. Might take a few hours to heal.”

“I’ll be carrying you back to the tower then,” Tony said, and Peter half-expected that to be a joke, until the face plate went down and Iron-Man hovered closer, hooking his metal arms under Peter’s armpits.

“What about clean-up?” Peter protested.

“The rest of the team will take care of that. – Heard that, Rogers? I’m taking Spider-Man back to home rank for medical assistance. Can you wrap things up down here?”

“Roger that, take care of him,” Steve replied through his earpiece.

-

His bullet wounds usually healed much quicker than this. Peter shifted into a different position on the bed, scrunching up his face as pain shot through his abdomen. Why did it still hurt so much?

He was lying flat on his back on a bed in the medical wing, just where Tony had left him before leaving to call Dr. Cho into work. Peter had tried to convince him that his ankle would likely already be healed by the time she got here, but to no avail.

He carefully peeled off his suit. Damn, his stomach was hurting! The last thing he wanted was to admit to Tony that he actually _had_ been shot, but judging by the unusual pain, the bullet may have done more damage than he had anticipated.

He threw his Spider-Suit onto a chair and gingerly reached for the pajamas that Tony had laid out, carefully putting them on. He looked down at his stomach. Honestly, the wound looked like it was healing just fine, already closing up nicely. He reached around to his back to feel the exit wound and froze when he found none.

Of course. How could he have been such an idiot? The bullet hadn’t gone through him like the last two times. It was still lodged in his abdomen, which explained the unusual pain. And the wound was healing around it.

Well, shit-crappity-shit.

He didn’t see a way around it. He was going to have to come clean.

And of course, in that moment, the door opened and Tony entered the room _with_ Steve and Natasha in tow. Peter could feel his hands beginning to sweat.

“Hey, Spidey,” Natasha said, patting him on the head. “Did you get a boo-boo?”

Peter glared at her. “Don’t laugh at me. I didn’t ask Tony to carry me home like a toddler. Anyway, my ankle does hurt, but there’s – uh – something else,” he turned his gaze on Tony, who frowned a little and stepped closer, “and please promise me you won’t get mad at me or ground me or anything, okay?”

“Don’t give me a reason to ground you, _okay?_ ” Tony shot back.

Peter swallowed, taking a final couple of seconds to try and figure out if he could see _any_ way around telling Tony the truth. When he didn’t, he mustered all his courage and pointed at his own abdomen. “There’s a bullet in my stomach.”

A short silence fell.

“Come again?” Tony asked. _Uh oh_ , his voice sounded dangerously low.

“There’s a bullet,” Peter repeated, “in my stomach. I’m sorry – I hadn’t realized it was there.”

“Then how are you sure it’s a bullet?” Steve asked with a concerned frown.

“I mean – I realized I got shot,” Peter corrected himself, ducking his head and bringing his blanket up to his chin to hide his torso behind it. “I just didn’t realize the bullet was still in there.”

“You told me that was a graze!” Tony barked.

“I’m sorry. It’s just; usually when I get shot it heals perfectly fine, so I didn’t think I needed to tell you.”

Tony’s expression turned even more severe. “Repeat that last sentence for me?”

Peter brought the blanket up even higher until only his eyes were still visible, warily peeking at Tony. “It only happened a few times,” he said, his voice muffled by the blanket.

Tony kept staring at him for a few seconds, looking absolutely thunderstruck. “You,” he then said, “are so, _so_ grounded.”

-

Tony angrily paced around the room, glancing down at his watch. Dr. Cho had anesthetized Peter to surgically remove the bullet, and Tony really thought that she should already have been done by now.

“Tony, calm down,” Natasha said. “It’s not like this is a dangerous procedure for Peter.”

“I’m not on edge about _that_ ,” Tony grated. “I’m just on edge about all the yelling I’m going to have to do once the kid is back on his feet.”

“Tony, please. For Peter, getting shot is essentially the equivalent of any other kid falling down and scraping their hands. He heals.”

“Friendly reminder; he’s _in surgery_ at the moment.”

“Yes, that was unwise of him,” Natasha agreed. “When he gets down here, I’ll teach him how to dig a bullet out immediately after getting shot so he can-“

“You will do NO such thing!” Tony boomed. “Have you lost your mind?”

Natasha threw back her head a little. “Ugh. If you get angry at him, it will only encourage him to hide his injuries from you in the future.”

“He’s not _getting_ any more injuries,” Tony snapped.

“Because, what, you’re going to keep him from going out? You know that will only be counterproductive.”

Tony abruptly turned his back on her and stormed towards the stairs, disappearing from sight. Natasha could hear the door to his workshop fall shut. Tony was probably blowing off steam by hammering something.

-

Peter finally appeared in the living room about half an hour later, still blinking sleepily from the anesthetic. He carefully shuffled forward and warily glanced around. “Where is Tony?”

“In his workshop. You should probably leave him be for a little while.”

Peter looked contrite. “Is he mad at me?”

“Yes,” said Natasha. “But it’ll pass. How are you doing?”

Peter lifted up his shirt a little to show a clean bandage wrapped around his stomach. “It’ll be totally healed in less than an hour, is my guess.” He shuffled towards an armchair and carefully sat down. He looked defensive but miserable at once. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“Of course it’s a big deal,” Natasha told him. “You got shot.”

“I heal!”

“You’ve healed thus far, because you’ve been lucky. What if the next shot hits you in the head or right through the heart? You think you’ll heal from _that_?”

Peter looked perturbed. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “But what am I supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to be honest to Tony about your injuries. All of them. Even if you think Tony will be overprotective. Because he is the best person who can keep you from getting hurt, or patch you up after you’ve been injured. So, no more downplaying your injuries!”

“Okay,” Peter mumbled.

Footsteps on the stairs, and Tony reappeared in the doorway. His eyes were still blazing with anger, and Peter nervously held his breath as he waited for what Tony would say.

“You!” Tony barked. “Come with me.”

With a final, pleading glance at Natasha, Peter slowly got to his feet. He followed Tony down the stairs with lead in his shoes.

Once they reached the workshop, Tony turned to Peter and pointed at a holographic design projected about one of the tables. “ _That_ is going to be your new Spider-Suit. It has vibranium fibers woven into the material that will stop bullets. I’m going to be working on it. And until it’s done, you are one hundred percent grounded. Do you hear me? And if you ever, _ever_ hide another injury from me, even if it’s a damn scraped knee, I will ground you _even more_. Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, although he couldn’t keep a stupid grin from spreading across his face. “Can I see the new suit?”

“This is _not_ some kind of reward!” Tony snapped.

“I know,” Peter said, ducking his head again. “I’m sorry. Thank you for making it, though.”

“I would have done it earlier if I knew you’d already been shot at,” Tony gruffly said.

“I won’t hide that stuff anymore, I promise.”

“Damn straight,” Tony muttered, “I’m still not sure that I won’t be reinstalling the baby monitor protocol.” He squinted at Peter. “How was the surgery?”

“Fine,” Peter assured him. “It’s healing nicely.”

“And your ankle?”

“Doesn’t hurt anymore,” Peter murmured, looking up at Tony with big brown eyes, silently pleading with him to say that they were okay, now.

“Don’t give me that look, kid. I’m supposed to be angry with you.”

“Okay,” Peter muttered, defeated. “How much longer are you staying angry?”

“Ten minutes,” Tony bit out.

“Okay,” Peter said with a small smile. “Can I come back in ten minutes and help you work on the suit?”

“Sure,” Tony grumbled.

Peter’s smile widened. “Thanks.” He gave Tony a small nod, and then left the room, carefully letting the door slide shut behind him.

Tony shook his head, focusing on the job at hand. Maybe he could weave some of those vibranium fibers into his own underwear.

Because this kid was going to kill him.


	25. The planetarium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Pepper are late for an important event. So Peter steps in. No big deal, at all. [prompt by JaDePeacock]

“Dude. They have a new show at the planetarium, and Mr. Stark was invited to come in after hours to watch it, and he asked me to go with him, so we’re going to be – like – just us, in a totally empty planetarium seeing the new show before it officially starts! It’s tomorrow. Wanna come with? MJ is coming, too.”

Ned was utterly speechless, but before he could give any sort of reaction, Peter was already rambling on: “We’re going to be there pretty late, because Tony and Pepper are going out of town all day, and then they do a keynote speech in the evening, and then we go to the planetarium after. You can come to the keynote speech too, if you’re interested? I’m going to help Tony give his speech, like, I’m going to run the teleprompter and stuff. I can get you backstage passes.”

“My life has gotten so much better ever since you became an Avenger,” Ned told him.

Peter grinned, hoisting his backpack a little higher. “What do you think the new show at the planetarium will be about? I’m super psyched.”

“Black holes?” Ned suggested.

“The dark side of the moon?”

“The journey of the Hubble telescope?

Speculating, they sauntered down the stairs towards the school’s front doors.

“What’s Stark’s keynote speech going to be about, anyways?” Ned asked as they stepped out into the sunlight.

“Just his latest findings on renewable energy,” Peter said, dismissively. “Nothing major. Not like he discovered the solution to getting unlimited clean energy. Just boring, conventional photoconduction.” His gaze fell on the black car parked right outside the front gates. “Gotta go. So, see you tomorrow?”

“Cool.”

Peter crawled into the backseat of the car, kicking his backpack behind the seat. “Hey, Tony! Didn’t know you’d be picking me up today.”

“Unplanned. Are you free right now? I wanted to do a quick run-through of everything. See if the solar panel works, so I don’t look like a big dum-dum tomorrow. Let’s call it a final rehearsal. Looking forward to tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, not wanting to insult Tony by admitting he was actually more excited about the planetarium show than about some boring speech.

“Pepper and I will be out in Ohio all day tomorrow,” Tony explained as he started the car. “But we’ll be back in New York well in time.”

-

“Uh – Pete? We might be running a little late.”

Peter frowned down at his phone, where Tony’s face was filling the screen. “Define ‘little’?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll be in time for the speech. But I think we’ll probably just drive straight down there. I’ve asked Happy to make sure to bring the laptop and all the other materials from the tower. He’s handling it. There’s absolutely no reason to panic.”

“Sure,” Peter said, absolutely convinced that Happy would be in a total state of panic right now. That man wouldn’t recognize an inline process refractometer when it was right in front of him. “See you there, then!”

He hung up, immediately reaching for his backpack. “May!” He yelled out. “I gotta go prevent a crisis at the tower!”

“Okay, honey! Wear your coat!”

-

Peter stepped out of the elevator, heading for Pepper’s office, first. FRIDAY had informed him that Happy was currently in there, frantically looking for all the right paperwork.

It wasn’t as bad as he had imagined. Pepper’s office had not yet dissolved into complete chaos, although there were a lot of papers scattered everywhere. Peter could only see Happy’s backside as the man was digging through a large filing cabinet.

“Happy.”

Happy jumped, smashing his head into a shelf above him. He groaned as he turned, carefully rubbing his head. “Peter. What are you doing here?”

“How about I take care of this?” Peter asked, stepping around Pepper’s desk. “I know where the contracts are, I helped fill them out.”

“Oh, good,” Happy breathed, visibly deflating. “I’ll go downstairs and grab all the technical stuff, then-“

“I’ll do that, too,” Peter promised. “The solar panel needs to be unplugged carefully, and I know everything else Tony needs. I’ve practiced the speech with him.”

“What can I do?” Happy asked, looking a little sheepish.

“How about you go reserve an extra parking space for Tony and Pepper, since they are now coming with a separate car? Make sure it’s close to the entrance.”

“Good call,” Happy said, relieved, before rushing from the room.

Peter frowned as he tried to organize some of the scattered papers back into neat piles. Personally, he couldn’t care less if Tony missed the whole keynote. As long as he was back in time to take Peter to the space show! May had never been able to afford tickets to go there, and it had been high on Peter’s bucket list for years. And he was pretty sure that even the great Tony Stark didn’t often get invitations to a personal preview like this.

He stepped over a pile of organizers to pull the correct file from Pepper’s desk drawer. He then made his way down to Tony’s workshop to get everything else they would be needing. The laptops, the flash drives, the display adapter – oh, and of course the damn solar panel.

Yeah, he was sure he had thought of everything. The only thing missing was Tony.

-

“WHERE THE HECK IS TONY!” Happy growled, looking like he wanted to throw his phone against the wall. “And why isn’t he answering me anymore?”

They were all standing off stage: MJ and Ned were mostly paying attention to the current speaker who was riveting the audience with his research about whether or not mosquitos liked cheese. Honestly, from what Peter had gathered, the research sounded pretty interesting, and he wouldn’t have minded to hear the whole thing. But as it was, he was far too busy trying to keep Happy from going into full-blown panic mode.

“Relax. He’ll be here,” he said. But he wasn’t sure if he believed it, himself. He should have known the whole planetarium-thing was too good to be true. He should have known his Parker-luck would kick in and ruin things. He was almost annoyed at how much Happy cared about some dumb speech about photoconduction, when _he_ was giving up the trip of a lifetime. He gave a depressed sigh and sat down on an upside-down bucket in the corner.

“He is supposed to go on in ten minutes.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Look, if he’s not here in time, _I’ll_ do the speech.”

Happy lowered his phone and stared down at Peter. “Are you insane?”

“I’ve heard Tony give the speech. And I’ve read his research. I mean, people might be a little miffed that they won’t get to see the actual Tony Stark, but I can give all the information.”

Happy pointed towards the stage, his eyes not leaving Peter’s face. “Kid – that audience is full of scientists. Renowned scientists. And you want to go up there with your washed-out jeans and talk about Stark’s solar panels?”

“No I don’t _want_ to,” Peter sneered, “but if it’ll help _you_ to unbend a little, why not? I’m only worried about having to follow this cheese-guy. His research sounds really cool.”

-

Tony followed Pepper as she pushed her way through several heavy backdoors. Pepper apparently knew her way around this venue as if she were born here. Even though Tony was pretty sure the last time either of them had visited this place was over a year ago, when this convention was last held. Still, she led him straight into a room without hesitation, and when Tony almost crashed into Happy, he knew they were in the right place.

“Tony!” Happy said, his eyes widening. “I thought you had been abducted by aliens or something.”

“I’m too late, right?” Tony said, glancing down at his watch. “Or can I still go on?”

“Whatever you feel you should do,” Happy murmured. “Uh – Peter is currently giving your speech.”

“Who is doing _what_ now?”

Happy pointed. Just off stage, Tony saw two teenagers whom he recognized as Peter’s friends MJ and Ned. They were sitting behind a laptop while paying rapt attention to the stage, not even noticing Tony. When Tony stepped closer to them, he could see onto the stage, where his solar panel was displayed on a table. And leaning against the table was Peter, seeming entirely unimpressed with having hundreds of the worlds’ leading scientist staring back at him. He was wearing baggy jeans, ratty sneakers, and his hair was standing up a little. “So, by using plasmonic nanostructures of precise sizes, we can enhance the scattering of light and increase absorption in solar cells,” Peter explained, waving his hand around as if everything he was saying was completely obvious. “Now, the effect is even greater when we use a new technique called ferroelectric nanolithography.”

“Next slide,” MJ murmured, and Ned nodded along, clicking.

“Are you my new assistants?” Tony asked, and the two teens almost fell of their chairs.

“Mr. Stark!” Ned squealed. “You’re here! You made it!”

“Sure did,” Tony said, before pulling out a chair and sitting down next to the two of them.

MJ frowned at him. “Don’t you want to take over?”

“Nah,” Tony said. “He’s doing a good job. So are you guys, by the way. Do you understand everything he is saying?”

“Not everything,” MJ said. “I mean, I still don’t get how you were able to prove that the transduction of optical radiation to an electrical current was all thanks to those plasmons.”

“Yeah,” Ned added. “Like, how can you be sure that that’s not all just to do with the porphyin molecules?”

“Any chance you’re looking for an internship?” Tony asked. “Because if so, you’re both hired.”

Ned’s mouth dropped open and his hand slid off the computer mouse, his eyes glazing over. MJ was more aloof. “We’ll consider it,” she informed him.

“Fair enough.”

“The Q&A is coming up,” MJ reminded him. “You might want to be on stage for _that_ part.”

“Good point,” Tony murmured, getting to his feet again. He straightened his tie, oddly aware of how strange he would look all dressed up in his best suit, next to Peter. “Anybody got another microphone for me?”

Peter was indeed rounding things off. “So that’s the end of the whole explanation. I think I covered everything. So I guess we move onto the Q&A, and if there’s-“

“Give it up for Mr. Parker!” Tony boomed into the microphone, wrapping both hands around his mouth to increase his volume. Peter whirled around at hearing the familiar voice. Tony stepped onto the stage, clapping his hands together as the audience did the same.

Peter looked _incredibly_ relieved, which was a little odd, because it hadn’t seemed as if he was uncomfortable on stage before. “Hey. Tony!”

“Hey kid,” Tony said, grinning. “Good job on demonstrating the solar panel. Didn’t he do a good job, everyone?”

Another smattering of applause, but Peter evidently didn’t even hear it. He tugged at Tony’s jacket, looking up at him. “Are we still going to the planetarium?” He asked, his eyes hopeful and excited, clearly forgetting that no less than five hundred people were listening in on their conversation.

Tony chuckled and squeezed his shoulder. “Yeah, kid. We’re going to the planetarium. “

“Cool,” Peter said, looking happier than ever.

-

Happy carefully heaved the solar panel into the back of his van. He was exhausted, mostly from worrying all day. He had managed to shrug off the event organizer, who had been droning on about last-minute changes to the program. Pepper was sitting in the front seat, firing up the GPS to take them home. A small clutter of attendees walked past, discussing about the strange kid in his baggy clothes who had given such a significant speech.

And Peter?

Peter was at the planetarium with Tony and with his friends, lying back in his seat and staring up at the projected night sky, a big smile on his face.


	26. Promposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleepingelle wanted social media based content, which can be interpreted in many ways 😊. So here is my attempt.
> 
> Peter asks Tony for a little advice. [Prompt by sleepingelle]

-

-

-

-


	27. Lollipop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade wants to bring his boyfriend a present, no matter what it takes. [Prompt by Pretzel_Writing07]
> 
> Hadn’t actually seen Deadpool, so I watched it today. Hope I’m giving a good impression of what a teenage Wade might be like. 
> 
> (tags: SpideyPool, Wade Wilson/Peter Parker, with Teenager!Wade, which means pre-Deadpool Wade, mild innuendos, breaking fourth wall)

Wade looked up at the Stark tower rising high into the sky. Somewhere in that tower was his boyfriend, behind the enemy lines. He likely had to go through about ten layers of security before getting to see him.

It would probably be better if he just left.

“Oh, no it wouldn’t,” Wade protested. “I’m going in there, and no one is stopping me.”

He clutched his bag of lollipops a little tighter and stepped forward, determined.

-

The lady behind the front desk was mind-numbing.

“Parker,” Wade repeated. “Peter Parker. Comes here every day? Gorgeous eyes, nice tushy?”

“Do you go to school with him?” She asked in the monotone voice of someone who has done a desk job for too many years.

“I _do_ go to school with him, as well as do a lot of other things with him.”

“Is there a problem here?” A cool voice interrupted.

Wade turned to see Black Widow, the infamous Natasha Romanoff, stepping closer with that permanently menacing face of hers.

“He says he is here for mister Peter Parker,” the receptionist informed her.

Natasha crossed her arms, assessing Wade sharply “What makes you think you can just traipse into this tower?”

“I brought lollipops,” Wade said, holding the bag out to her.

“That does give you an edge,” she admitted, taking one and ripping off the plastic. “So. You’re a friend of Peter’s?”

“Boyfriend.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “You don’t seem his type.”

“Really? Devilishly handsome is not his type?”

Natasha merely narrowed her eyes even further, but she didn’t look all that menacing with a lollipop stick between her lips.

“Am I to understand that he hasn’t even mentioned me to his fellow Avengers? Because that is a bit of a personal affront, I must admit. I _know_ the big guy has heard of me, at least.”

“The big guy?”

“Yeah. The rich one? Looks a bit like Robert Downey Junior, but uglier?”

“FRIDAY, where is Tony?” Natasha asked, not taking her eyes off Wade.

“Taking a coffee break in the living room,” FRIDAY reported.

“Tell him I’m coming up with someone who might be Peter’s boyfriend, but might also be a pathologically lying psychopath.”

“Would you be very surprised if I said I’m both?” Wade asked as he picked up his feet to follow her to the elevator.

-

They stepped into the living area where Tony was sitting at the table. He had been down in the workshop with Peter for several hours, and had come up here for a coffee break.

“I find it hard to believe he wouldn’t just get coffee delivered to him,” Wade pointed out.

Which… you know, he had a point.

But as it was, Tony was drinking coffee in the living area. And giving Wade a curious once-over. “Oh, it’s you. Wayne, was it?”

“Xavian, actually,” Wade said. Spelled with a silent p, so Pxavian.”

“You know this kid?” Natasha asked in confirmation.

“Yeah, he’s one of Peter’s friends. Though I don’t remember consenting to Peter inviting his friends to the tower.”

“ _Boyfriend_ , _”_ Wade emphasized.

Tony set his coffee cup down. “ _You’re_ the secret boyfriend? Damn, I was _so_ sure it was that other kid, Ted.”

“I think you mean Titus.”

“Maybe,” Tony muttered. “I’m not great with names. I knew it was something with a ‘T’. FRIDAY, get me a live connection to Peter.”

“Will do.”

A few seconds later, Peter’s voice broke through. “Hey, Tony. How is the coffee?”

“Divine. Listen, kid. Xavior is here.”

“Xavior?” Peter repeated slowly.

“Pxavian,” Wade corrected. “Hey, handsome.”

A rustling noise on the other end, as if Peter had dropped something from his hands or pushed something over. “Wade?”

“Oh right,” Wade said, whacking himself in the forehead. “That’s what my name was.”

“You have weird taste in men, kid,” Tony told Peter.

“So does you wife,” Peter immediately shot back.

Wade immediately chortled. This was _exactly_ why he had fallen in love.

Natasha was suppressing laughter, too, judging by the slight tremble in her shoulders.

Tony merely huffed. “Well,” he said, glancing back at Wade. “I guess you’re cleared to enter. Though I don’t like teenagers randomly walking in. But I guess I’ll allow this visit because, incidentally, I want to hear all the gossip about this relationship.” He stood and beckoned Wade. “Follow me, then.”

They made their way down to the workshop. Peter was sitting in a high chair next to one of the tables, his Spider-suit in his lap. Their approaching footsteps made him look up, and his eyes focused on Wade’s face. “Wade – It really is you! Shouldn’t you be delivering newspapers right now?”

Tony cut in before Wade could reply. “Look, Pete – I’ll make an exception for him since he’s your boyfriend. I’ll allow him, let’s say… a _monthly_ visit. But I don’t want this to become a habit. I don’t want to see Titus strolling in here tomorrow.”

“Titus?” Peter asked, looking confused.

“He means Ned,” Wade explained.

Peter scrunched up his nose, probably trying to figure out how the hell Tony had misheard the name ‘Ned’ as ‘Titus’.

“You look very pretty today,” Wade informed him with a coy smile.

Peter turned a little red, his eyes flitting to Tony for a moment. “Uh, FYI I’m not making out with you in front of my boss. Why’d you come here, anyways?”

Wade held out the plastic bag. “I wanted to bring you a lollipop.”

Peter smiled a little then, and took one. “Okay. What else?”

“Do I need another reason to come and see you?”

“Are you joking? This is really the whole reason why you came down here?” Peter asked, holding up the lollipop.

“Yup. Actually, gotta run soon, or I’ll be late for my shitty job that I don’t even want to do. You know what? Hearing myself talk, I changed my mind: Forget it, I’ll just be late.”

“No, don’t be late,” Peter pleaded. “You already got fired three times this month. Just stick with the newspaper thing.”

“Was fired from that yesterday, actually. New job is in a grocery store.”

“Wade…” Peter chided, sticking the lollipop in his mouth which, combined with the little frown on his face, made him look so, _so_ cute.

But Wade knew he really should be leaving right now.

“Um, nope, I don’t want to leave,” Wade said.

Peter blinked at him. “What are you doing?”

“Breaking the fourth wall. What about you?”

“Fixing my suit,” Peter muttered, lifting it up a little and peeking at Wade through a tear. “Some guy with metal claws took a jab at me.”

Wade turned to Tony Stark, who had been following the entire exchange with rapt attention, his head leaning in his hands. “Soooo, how’d you meet?” Tony cajoled with an innocent smile. “How long have you been together? Who is the _romantic_ one?”

“Wade has to leave now,” Peter hastily cut in, laying his suit down on the table and standing up.

Wade huffed. “God, you’re worse than the author. Why would I leave just to be in time for my stupid blow-your-brains-out job?”

“Come on Wade,” Peter said, laying a hand against Wade’s chest and pushing him backwards towards the door. “Look, if you stick it out with this job for at least a month, I’ll get you a present, okay?”

Wade smiled. “What kind of present?”

“ _Not_ the kind you’re thinking,” Peter warned him.

They were close to the door now, and far away enough from Tony that Wade dared to sneak in a little kiss. “I’ll stick it out,” he promised. “Or I’ll try. But if there’s ever more pressing matters, like bringing my boyfriend a lollipop, I can’t make any guarantees.”

That’s enough out of him. Wade gave a final wave goodbye and turned towards the stairs.

“Says who?” Wade objected.

Says the author. You’ll see Peter at school tomorrow. Now, get out.


	28. Zoom-Zoom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony rescues a baby Peter. [prompt by StressedSpider]  
> (AU where Peter is still a baby when the Avengers have already been formed.)

“Yo, coca-cola can, were you listening or is your com turned off?”

“What did you just call me, Wilson?”

“Hey – you call me bird suit all the time. And what kind of name is Iron-Man anyways? Your suit is not even made of Iron.”

“Did you have a point, or are you just goofing off?”

“Rogers wants to know where you’re at.”

Tony hovered in mid-air for a moment. “Around Park Avenue. Just making sure the emergency services didn’t miss anything.”

Sam huffed. “You mean you’re having fun flying around while we’re down here cleaning up the mess.”

Today’s little Avenger outing had been slightly unusual. Just a giant, purple lizard wreaking havoc in Manhattan, leaving several buildings severely damaged. It had taken a lot of teamwork to take down this uglier version of Godzilla.

“I’m picking up on something,” FRIDAY suddenly announced. “A heat signature, very small in size.”

Tony didn’t really come out here to rescue someone’s cat or dog. But hey, if it got him out of cleaning duty... He followed FRIDAY’s directions, steering towards a smaller alleyway.

The heat signature hadn’t come from a dog or cat, though. It had come from a baby boy.

The baby was screaming his own ears off. Understandably so, because he was strapped into an overturned baby stroller. The stroller was lying on its side next to a collapsed wall, one wheel bent. There was no one else in sight, and Tony felt his heart give a pang at the desperate little cries.

Worried that his Iron-Man arms would not be gentle enough to handle a baby, Tony dismantled his suit, stepping out. He leaned in to undo the straps around the little body and pick up the crying baby, holding it tenderly against his chest. The boy didn’t seem to be injured, thankfully. There was some dust in his hair, which Tony carefully wiped away, but nothing worse.

“FRIDAY, do you detect anyone trapped nearby?” He asked, scanning the collapsed wall, praying that there wasn’t a dead mother or father underneath.

“Nothing detected,” came FRIDAY’s reply.

“What’s all that noise?” Steve asked through his earpiece.

“That’s coming from me,” Tony told him.

“What are you crying about then?” Clint put in, and Tony heard a few others snicker at that comment.

“I’m crying about the lack of maturity on this team,” Tony scathed as he carefully bounced the baby up and down in his arms. It didn’t help. If anything, the boy only cried louder. “I have an abandoned baby here.”

“No parents around?” Rhodey asked.

“Do I need to define ‘abandoned’ for you?”

“I’m coming your way,” Rhodey said. “Don’t drop him.”

Tony huffed. “Oh, _don’t_ drop him? Gotcha. And just to clarify, you’re _supposed_ to hold babies upside down, right? Just swing ‘em around by the ankles?”

Rhodey wisely didn’t respond to that, so Tony spent a little more time trying to comfort the baby boy, wincing at the actual tears running down his tiny, chubby cheeks. “Everything’s okay, peanut. We’ll find your mommy and daddy.”

Rhodey touched the ground next to him about a minute later, having the presence of mind to land as gently and quietly as possible so as not to startle the kid.

Tony was still desperately trying to distract the boy and get him to stop crying. “What’s your name, buddy? What’s your name?”

Rhodey lifted his faceplate. “He’s a baby, Tony, he can’t say his name.”

“Hm,” Tony said. “I suppose it’s no use asking him for his address, then.”

Rhodey stepped out of his suit, too, looking the alley way up and down. “We should probably drop him off at the police station,” he suggested. “If the parents go looking for him, that’s where they’ll go first.”

“All right,” Tony murmured. “I’m not flying though. That seems risky. FRIDAY, take my suit home.”

The Iron-Man suit immediately closed up, fired its jet boots and shot up into the sky. Tony turned his back towards it to shield the baby from some of the noise. The boy’s wails had dropped down to quiet sniffles, and Tony didn’t want to set him off again.

“I’ll take him to the nearest station. See you at home, I suppose,” he told Rhodey.

“You sure you can handle this?”

“It’s just a tiny human being, Rhodey. I can handle it.”

-

Tony had only made it to the end of the next block, when the baby’s quiet sniffles suddenly turned into excited, little gurgles and he reached out a chubby arm. “Bim! Bim!”

A man was stumbling towards them, relief etched into his face. “Peter! Oh Christ – thank god!” He snatched the boy from Tony’s arms without a word.

Tony didn’t mind, though. He didn’t need to have children himself to understand the fear all parents had of losing one. He looked on as the man hugged the baby close, dropping kisses all over his head. The baby gave a hearty laugh.

“Are you the father?”

“Uncle,” the man said. “My brother called me in complete panic. He was hit in the head and woke up in the hospital, where no one could tell him where his son was. We feared the worst – I need to call him right away– would you mind?” And he motioned for Tony to take the baby from him again, which Tony did without protest.

The boy, whose name was apparently Peter, seemed far more content now that his uncle was nearby. This time, when Tony bounced him up and down in his arms, Peter giggled happily, kicking his little legs.

“You like that, huh, peanut? You’re at that stage in your life where everything makes you laugh, aren’t you? I could tell you Santa Claus doesn’t exist and you’ll just keep laughing as long as I keep bouncing, won’t you?” Tony cooed, only dimly away of how much nonsense he was babbling.

Apparently, babies brought that out in anybody.

“Bim!” The boy exclaimed again when the man turned back to them, hanging up the phone.

“Bim, is it?” Tony asked.

The man gave a somewhat embarrassed smile, holding out his hand for Tony to shake. “Ben, actually. And this is Peter. Sorry, I haven’t even thanked you, yet.”

“It’s all right,” Tony said as he carefully handed Peter back to him. “Just doing my job.”

“He really likes Iron-Man, you know,” Ben offered. “You’re his favorite toy. He already broke three of you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“He calls you ‘Zoom-Zoom’,” Ben added.

“I suppose I should take that as a compliment, too?”

Ben smiled. “He can’t say Iron-Man, but he knows you can fly.” He hoisted Peter up a little higher. “Peter, you like Zoom-Zoom, right?”

Peter gave Ben a questioning glance.

Ben pointed towards Tony. “This is Zoom-Zoom right here!”

Peter gave Tony a searching look. “No,” he then declared in a very serious tone.

Ben chuckled heartily. “No? No, I suppose he doesn’t look very much the same as your toys.” He looked up at Tony again. “I’ll take him to see his dad now. Thank you again.”

“Pleasure getting to know you.”

“Say ‘bye Zoom-Zoom’!” Ben said, squeezing Peter a little.

“Bye Zoom-Zoom,” Peter murmured, still not sounding terribly convinced.

After a final nod, Ben walked away, down the completely abandoned street. Tony looked on as and Peter laid his head on the man’s shoulder.

Tony turned around, too, starting his walk back to Avengers Tower. He took out his phone to send a message to Sam.

_Wilson, you’ll be happy to know I will henceforth no longer be known as Iron-Man. From now on, you may call me Zoom-Zoom._


	29. The napping expert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper gives Peter a few life lessons. [prompts by Temo and GeogieOK]

Pepper entered the compound living area, her head full of the day’s events. It hadn’t exactly been her best day. Far from it, in fact. She really wanted to put her feet up, drink a cup of tea, and read a good book. Thankfully, the living area was deserted. Most of the other Avengers tended to keep to their own rooms.

She moved to the bar and turned on the electric kettle. When she turned back to the circle of couches and chairs, she noticed that she wasn’t alone after all.

Peter was stretched out on his side on the couch, fast asleep. His shoes had been neatly placed on the carpet; his socks tucked into them. It was clear that he had had the same idea as Pepper: take advantage of the peace and quiet to process a hard day of work.

Careful not to wake him, she quietly set a glass teacup down on the smooth surface of the bar, before selecting a teabag. The kettle finished boiling, and Pepper poured herself a cup. She shuffled towards one of the plushy armchairs but somehow, her foot got stuck behind the carpet and her teacup went flying. Pepper hissed when a few searing hot droplets hit her fingers. Most of the tea was dumped on the carpet, though, leaving a big fat stain. The carpet did keep the cup from shattering into a million pieces.

Pepper glanced towards Peter to see the boy had woken up with a start. She sighed, frustrated with herself. “Oh – Peter, I’m sorry honey, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” she murmured as she bent down to pick up the now empty cup. She put it back on the bar, returning with a cloth to dab at the soaked carpet.

Meanwhile, Peter was slowly sitting up, blinking. He looked confused for a moment. Then he looked awkward. “Oh shoot. I fell asleep? I just wanted to rest my eyes for a little bit…”

“Seems like you needed the rest,” Pepper commented, throwing the cloth into the sink. She decided to just have a glass of water, instead.

Peter sat up straighter, blinking down at his bare feet resting on the couch cushions, before blushing and quickly dropping his feet down to the floor. “I didn’t mean to intrude or anything.”

“You’re not intruding,” Pepper said, sitting down in the armchair with her book and her glass of water.

Peter didn’t hear her. “Stupid – gahh, embarrassing…” He muttered, running a hand through his hair.

Pepper considered him for a moment. Peter had been staying with them for a few days now, because his aunt was out of town. Now, Pepper had talked to Peter plenty of times before, when he was staying for dinner, but always with Tony there. It occurred to her now that Peter was still a little awkward around her.

Well, she could fix that.

“You won’t believe what happened to me today,” she told Peter. “My god, I wish I could erase this whole day from memory. I went into a meeting this morning, and had to give a whole angry speech to some of the managers because they are way behind on all of our deadlines. So I tell them off for about ten minutes, then I go to sit down, but my chair swivels as I tried to sit and I just land on the floor. And then I had to sit through the rest of the meeting with a bruised tailbone.”

“Oh, jeez,” Peter said, looking like he was suppressing a smile. “Did they laugh?”

“Thankfully I have enough of an evil reputation that they didn’t dare to. But they probably laughed after I had left. And then it just got worse: Today was my PA’s birthday, and I went through all this trouble to get him a nice mocha hazelnut cake, with his name written on it and everything. It gets delivered. I bring it to him with a whole ‘tadaa’ and a happy birthday – and then when I see the look on his face I remember he is allergic to nuts.”

Peter chuckled a little now, and he stretched his legs. “Well, it’s nice that you tried to get him a cake at least.”

“It was a disaster. Please never tell Tony, because I gave him a _very_ hard time about forgetting I was allergic to strawberries, once.”

“You are his _girlfriend,_ though,” Peter said. “That’s different.”

“Still,” Pepper murmured.

“It’ll be our secret,” Peter promised with a smile. He seemed more at ease, now.

Pepper smiled back. “So, what about you? Long day?”

Peter gave a half-shrug, wrapping his arms around one of the couch cushions. “Sort of. Staying here, away from home. The homework. The patrolling… sometimes it gets a bit much.”

“And what do you do when it gets a bit much?”

Peter looked up at her, clearly not understanding the question.

“When things get too much, it’s always good to try and do something about it,” Pepper elaborated. “Prioritize, drop some workload, take a day off.”

Peter scrunched up his nose. “I don’t need to do that. I’m not a CEO, I’m just a teenager.”

“A teenager with a whole lot of responsibilities.”

“You think I’ll crack under the pressure?”

Pepper shrugs, casually sipping her water. “I think, these days, it’s hard enough not to crack under the pressure of _average_ expectations. Let’s try to prioritize a bit, shall we?”

“Uhh.. okay?”

“I’ve done a CEO-training on this just last week,” Pepper said, really gaining some steam now. “Here’s what you need to do in a day: sleep, eat, socialize, hobbies, school, homework, patrolling. Did I miss anything?”

“Sit around and worry about death?” Peter dryly supplied.

Pepper let out a laugh. “I’ll count that as a hobby.”

“What about browsing Netflix all day?”

“Hobby, as well. So which of those things is most important?”

“Patrolling,” Peter immediately said.

“Nope. Try again.”

“All right, fine,” Peter muttered. “Sleeping and eating is pretty important, too.”

“Agreed. In fact, I’d suggest that out of all the things I listed, patrolling is at the very bottom of that list of priorities.”

Peter looked scandalized. “Excuse me? Below Netflix? Because saving people’s lives is less important than catching the new episode of ‘Game of Thrones’?”

“It’s more a matter of trying to keep yourself sane and healthy, so that you can _keep_ saving lives for a long, long time.”

Peter considered that for a few seconds, his lips pursed. “Yeah okay,” he finally said with some reluctance. “So… what are you saying with all this?”

Pepper opened her book, flipping to the page where she had left off yesterday. “I’m saying, don’t feel bad about taking a nap on the couch.”

Peter was quiet for another few seconds. “So… you’re saying you wouldn’t mind if I continued my nap right now?”

“You cracked my code,” Pepper confirmed with a smile.

“Okay,” Peter murmured, lying back down. “I guess I’ll do that.”

“How about a little blanket to be comfier?” Pepper suggested, reaching to the side to pluck one from a shelve and throwing it at Peter.

“Ah. I see you’re an expert napper.”

“I majored in napping,” Pepper joked.

“Hmm…” Peter murmured, pulling the blanket close around himself and closing his eyes, clearly no longer feeling awkward about falling asleep in front of Pepper.

-

And when Tony entered the room almost an hour later, Pepper motioned for him to stay quiet.

“Oh,” Tony murmured when he saw Peter. “Does that mean we’re not having dinner yet?”

“Let’s give him another half hour.”

“I’m hungry though,” Tony said. “Do we have pizza?”

“No,” said Pepper. “But we have a whole mocha hazelnut cake in the fridge.”


	30. Spandex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers hijack Peter’s school trip. [prompt by birdethbby & OTPmorelike2000truepairings]

“We’re going to the _pencil_ museum tomorrow. The _pencil_ museum!” Peter complained as he unzipped his jacket.

Sam, Natasha and Tony were in the living area, watching the news.

“Hmmm?” Tony asked, distracted.

Peter slumped down on the couch. “We’re going to the pencil museum,” he repeated. “And I just want to tell you all it has been nice to know you, because I’m definitely going to die of boredom.”

Sam chuckled.

“Is your school out of money?” Tony asked.

“If we were out of money, you’d think that we wouldn’t go to _any_ museum. But nooo, we have to go and learn why a number 2 pencil is called a number 2 pencil.”

“Tell your teacher to come to the tower next time,” Tony suggested. “We do field trips all the time.”

Peter gave an actual shudder at the suggestion. “Me on a field trip to SI, can you imagine?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Tony asked, sounding indignant.

“It would be awkward.”

“Why?”

“Because you would probably try to mess with me.”

“I would _never_ ,” Tony assured.

-

“Good news!” Mr. Harisson announced, rubbing his hands together as he led the students towards the front gate. “We’re going to Stark Industries!”

The students looked confused. “Stark Industries?” Someone asked.

“Yeah. Tour company called. They upgraded us. Now, get your butts into those seats. We have to be there in twenty minutes.”

Ned glanced sideways at Peter. “What’s going on?”

“I think the Avengers just hijacked our school trip,” Peter guessed.

“Awesome.”

-

They arrived at Stark Tower, and Peter wasn’t surprised _at all_ to see Sam standing near the front entrance with a wide, innocent smile.

Mr. Harisson stepped off the bus and immediately reached out to shake Sam’s hand. “Such a pleasure to be here, Mr. Falcon!

“Welcome,” Sam said, his eyes scanning the group of students before him. “Nice to see you all. I just happened to have a gap in my schedule, right now. I’ll be your tour guide for today.”

 _Gap in his schedule, my ass_ , Peter thought. But he didn’t say anything and avoided looking directly at Sam, instead pretending to be very busy with his phone. He’d get his revenge sooner or later.

They moved through the lobby, and Peter spotted Natasha leaning against the front desk. She watched the clutter of students shuffle past her with a smirk on her face. Peter knew that when _she_ had a smile like that, he had every reason to be worried.

But still he said nothing, falling behind a little to hide behind the rest of the group as they make their way straight to the stairs leading down to Tony’s workshop. And of course, _of course_ Tony was just innocently sitting at one of the desks, even though Peter knew the man usually didn’t come down here until after lunch.

“Well, hello!” Tony said when he laid eyes on the group of students. “What a nice surprise. I didn’t expect to get any visitors today. Such a coincidence.”

Peter couldn’t help but huff a little. Only Tony seemed to notice, judging by the slight twitching of his lips.

“What are you doing there, Tony?” Sam asked, sounding like he was acting in an infomercial.

“I’m just working on Spider-Man’s web shooters. Why don’t you come closer and have a look?”

The students did, shuffling closer to the desk, most of them clearly completely starstruck.

“Ah, yes,” Sam said, picking up two web shooters and holding them up for everybody to see. “Spider-Man can use all the help he can get, after all. He doesn’t have much protection of his own. Skinny dude swinging around New York in nothing but spandex.”

“He needs his web fluid to fight, but also to move through the city,” Tony explained, with ill-concealed glee. “The exact formula was created by Spider-Man, but we’ve been working on improving it together.”

Peter felt a slight amount of gratitude for Tony for not badmouthing him completely. But at the same time, he felt a much larger amount of exasperation at how much Tony seemed to enjoy his predicament.

“That’s right,” Sam said, nodding along. “That’s right. Needs his web fluid to get around. Without it, he’d just have to take the bus. Imagine that! Not like me, who can fly everywhere.”

Tony was leaning back against his desk, a smile on his face as he listened.

“Any questions so far?” Sam asked.

Peter’s hand shot up. He could tell from the expressions on Sam’s and Tony’s faces that they hadn’t expected him to willingly step into the spotlight.

Sam gave a nod. “Yeah, kid, what’s your name?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Peter. Yeah, I have a question. Um, I was just wondering. You mentioned Spider-Man wearing spandex. But you don’t have a suit at all, isn’t that right? I mean, you just have a sort of… big back pack.”

Tony’s grin widened, his eyes flashing back to Sam.

“It’s a little more than just a backpack,” Sam insisted.

“No - he has a point,” MJ said. “You seem pretty unprotected in that gear. Maybe Mr. Stark could build you something more substantial?”

“That’ll weigh me down, though. My speed is one of my greatest powers,” Sam boasted.

“Spider-Man is faster,” Ned pointed out.

A few other students chorused a ‘yeah’.

“I’m just saying,” Peter continued, “who would win in a fight: The Falcon or Spider-Man?”

“Spider-Man,” Flash immediately confirmed. “He has webs.”

“I can cut those webs with my wings,” Sam protested.

“I’d like to see you try,” Flash drawled, crossing his arms. “Because if his webs are coiled really tight around you, you wouldn’t have any wriggling room to gather enough force to break out of them.”

“Well, okay!” Sam said, dumping the web shooters back on the table. “That concludes this part of the tour. I’ll take you to one of the labs where one of our regular tour guides will take over.”

“You insulted him, dingus,” someone whispered at Flash.

-

On the way back to school, Peter rode in the back of the bus, feeling mighty pleased with himself. The tour had been interesting. He had actually learned a few new things. But more importantly; his fellow students were still loudly discussing how Spider-Man could obviously kick the Falcon’s ass.

A message appeared on his phone. It was from Sam. _You win this round, Spider-Man._

Peter leaned back and grinned.


	31. Bucket list

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeps, I was way too tired today to work on a prompt. I’ll write another proper story tomorrow, but here’s just a little drabble to make up for it!

Peter was lying on his back on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling of the Avenger’s Tower living area.

Like so many times before, what was supposed to be simply a quiet night in with his fellow Avengers, had quickly turned into an evening of nonsensical parlor games. There was the usual ‘never have I ever’, after which every one had recounted the weirdest dream they had ever had, and they had just finished guessing each other’s secret celebrity crushes.

“What about bucket lists?” Sam now suggested. “I wanna know what everyone really wants to do in their life. Stark, you go first.”

“I always go first!”

“Yeah, well, I wanna know what a billionaire is still holding out for.”

“I’ve never given it much thought,” Tony said. “I mean, when I want to do something, I just do it. But if you push me… I suppose I’d like to go sailing again some time. Pepper and I only went sailing once, and it wasn’t the best day for it. The wind blew us almost all the way to Mexico.”

“We were in a lake,” Pepper reminded him.

“I think you’re forgetting how strong this wind was,” Tony insisted, as he cracked open another bottle of wine. “So there you go. Boring and modest. What about you, Romanoff? What’s on your bucket list?”

“Go to Canada,” Natasha immediately replied.

Tony slightly lifted his eyebrows. “Really? What would you do there?”

“Just… keep an eye on those Canadians,” Natasha said, her eyes narrowed in determination.

Peter was pretty glad, then, that he wasn’t Canadian.

“What about you, Barton?”

“Have a kid-free day,” Clint said, sounding wistful. “Just me and Laura. I mean, I love my kids to death, but sometimes I just want to get in my car and…”

“Drive far away?”

“…run them over.”

A round of laughter. Peter chuckled along, even as he wrecked his brain trying to come up with a response for when the question would inevitably turn to him. What was on his bucket list? There wasn’t anything he wanted, really. But he knew the other Avengers wouldn’t accept that answer. They’d probably boo him if he even attempted to dodge the question that way.

He knew he had to think fast when Clint’s eyes turned on him, and the man poked him with his foot. “What about you, Pete? What’s on your bucket list?”

It stayed quiet for a moment.

“I’d like a bucket,” Peter said.


	32. churros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A “Good Publicity" one-off where Peter befriends Deadpool [prompt by Blueswan142]

The first time it happened, was on a rainy Saturday afternoon. Peter had returned to the tower after his patrol, leaving little puddles of water wherever he stepped. He immediately disappeared to his room for a shower, and returned a little while later wearing his pajamas.

“How was today?” Ton asked.

“Good,” Peter murmured, sitting sideways next to him on the couch and tucking his toes under Tony’s leg, like he did so often.

It always took a bit of effort to get Peter to say more than two words about his patrol experiences.

“Any crime on a rainy day like this?”

“Not much.”

“Okay. So what did you do today?”

“Hm. Helped a guy with his car that broke down. It was raining so much…”

“Did he thank you, at least?”

“He bought me a churro,” Peter murmured, wrapping his arms around his legs.

“That’s nice,” Tony said, thinking nothing of it.

-

That changed a few days later, when Peter returned from patrol and told Tony that he ran into the same guy. “He bought me a churro again.”

“That’s nice,” Tony repeated. “How did you run into him?”

“We were both at this bank robbery.

“Oh, really? Was he one of the robbers?”

Peter chuckled a little, carefully taking his web shooters off his wrists and laying them down on the table.

“Was he just an innocent bystander? Did you save his ass again? Or is he secretly stalking you?”

Peter merely smiled, and Tony wondered if the kid was keeping secrets from him. It was always hard to tell. Peter wasn’t exactly talkative.

“Do you know the guy’s name?”

“Wade.”

And that’s all Peter wanted to say about the issue.

-

“Peter Parker hasn’t moved from his location in over half an hour,” FRIDAY reported.

Tony hummed, immediately swiping around his tablet to get coordinates on Peter’s location. “Is that a problem?”

“It is somewhat unusual activity. I’m not getting any abnormal results from Karen, though.”

“Seems fine, then. But I’ll give him a little call.”

Peter picked up quickly, which indicated that he definitely wasn’t in the middle of any very serious superhero business. In fact, Tony thought that he heard some soft piano music in the background.

“Hi Pete, where are you?”

It stayed quiet for a moment. “Having churros,” Peter then said.

“With _Wade_ , again?”

Peter made an affirming noise.

“At…” Tony squinted at his screen “a place called La Boquería?”

“It’s his home turf,” Peter said, and Tony could tell from his tone of voice that he was quoting the guy.

“What’s that guy’s last name?” Tony asked, feeling some suspicion, now.

A rustling sound on the other end of the line. “Why?”

“So I can check his records, of course. See how many teenagers he has already lured away with promises of free churros.”

Peter huffed. “You are wrong.”

“Prove me wrong. Gimme his name.”

“Come visit,” Peter suggested instead.

“ _Woah_ woah,” Tony heard Wade say. “Am I paying for a billionaire’s churros? I didn’t think so.”

“My treat,” Peter said.

-

Chopin’s nocturnes were playing, and the sickly-sweet scent of herbal tea and pie wafted into Tony’s face as he entered the tiny bakery. There were tablecloths with embroidered figures, and napkins with flowers, and delicate teacups, and a friendly looking, old man behind the counter who had to be at least eighty years old.

And amidst all that fuzziness sat Peter, a cup of black coffee and a half-eaten churro directly in front of him. And across from him sat-

Tony stopped dead. He knew immediately who the man was. Deadpool was infamous throughout New York.

Tony blinked, looking around for a moment. The bakery was an oasis of peace and quiet. A few tables over sat a small group of elderly ladies and gentlemen, enjoying a high tea and not seeming the least bit perturbed by having two masked figures eating churros a few feet away from them. Well, actually, only Peter was eating churros, his mask lifted up past his nose. Deadpool was just leaning back in his chair and apparently humming to himself.

Peter spotted Tony now, and gave a little wave and a relaxed grin.

Tony approached their table, nodding at Peter in greeting, but remaining standing as he sized up the masked man who had dared to invite _his_ kid out for churros.

“Uh oh,” Deadpool said. “Let’s turn that frown upside down. You came to the right place. You can never go wrong with some nice _casadielles_.”

“Right. This is your home turf, is it?”

“Oh, yeah,” Deadpool said. “The owner and I go way back.”

“Because of all the churros you eat?” Tony asked, with a pointed look at the empty table in front of the man.

“Can’t eat right now. Gotta protect the merchandise, babe,” Deadpool told him, pointing at his own face.

“So does he!” Tony bit out, pointing at Peter. “Did that ever occur to you? What are you playing at with this whole charade? Trying to get him to give up his identity?”

“Stand down, corporal. All I’m doing is giving him a churro because he helped me out a few times.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe.”

“Tony,” Peter said in chiding tones. “Wade is nice. Be nice to him.”

Deadpool gave a shrug. “What can I say? I like the kid. He’s the quiet type, I appreciate that. And I talk enough for the both of us, believe me.”

“I believe _that_ ,” Tony drawled.

“Are you going to order anything, by the way?” Deadpool asked, pointing at the old man behind the bar. “Ernesto can’t live on bread alone, you know.”

“My treat,” Peter repeated, his mouth full of another bite of churro.

“I’d prefer if we just went home, now,” Tony insisted.

“Tony,” Peter said. “Sit.”

Tony sat.

“You know,” Deadpool said, lifting his legs up so he could put his feet on the chair next to him and lean back even further. “I’ve been hunting this group of douchebags for _weeks_. Last week, they decide to rob a bank of all things. And I’m standing there, watching them, thinking: Should I walk away and let the police take care of them from now on? Or should I do the _pc_ thing and go in there to shoot ‘em all through the head and get out before the cops come? Audiences love that stuff, after all. And I’m still trying to decide when suddenly something red and blue just swings past me and takes over my scene! He’s got ‘em all webbed up with that weird white stuff of his before I can say Jack Robinson. And then, _poof_ , I end up in this black hole because I’ve been working towards this moment for months, and now it’s suddenly over. So, you know, I figured I might as well spend my time buying churros for our hard-working hero.”

“Can’t find any friends your own age to play with?”

Peter gave Tony a frown. “Tony! You always embarrass me in front of my friends.”

Tony didn’t even know how to reply to that.

“Your old man’s got a point though, you know,” Wade told Peter. “If I had any kids, I wouldn’t let them hang out with a masked vigilante, either.”

Tony wanted to scathe that Deadpool was barely a ‘vigilante’ with all the stuff he had pulled around the city. But he didn’t say anything, because this _vigilante_ suddenly seemed to be agreeing with him, and Tony wanted to see how that would play out.

“But we’re the same,” Peter pointed out.

“That’s cute, that you think that,” Wade chuckled. “Kid, on the official ‘sweet innocence’-scale, with me being at the bottom and a baby bunny being at the top, you are _above_ the baby bunny.” He turned back to Tony “Don’t sweat it, rich man. Soon enough, I’ll find a new project to keep myself busy. But if I ever end up here again, having a churro with your Spider-kid, don’t call the FBI on me, is all I’m saying.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tony conceded. “Maybe I came on a little strong. I just need to keep the kid safe. And you don’t exactly have a kid-friendly reputation.”

Deadpool huffed. “Is that right? Jeez, you punch _one_ orphan, and suddenly you’re not ‘kid-friendly’. What has a guy got to do to gain some trust?”

“Buy more churros,” Peter said, pushing his now empty plate forward with an innocent smile.

“I’ll get the next round, I suppose,” Tony murmured, reaching for his wallet.


	33. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets kidnapped. And he doesn’t want anyone else to get involved – one person in particular. [prompt by AINx]  
> (tag: Post-Endgame AU)

The day had been going so great, until _it_ happens. Peter has just finished a particularly successful patrol, and he is feeling pretty good about his chances for the job interview he is about to go to. He has been practicing the answers to any possible questions while swinging around New York. “I’m focused, enthusiastic and cooperative,” he murmurs under his breath as he swings back to the alleyway where he left his backpack. “Focused, enthusiastic and cooperative.” He grabs his backpack from behind a dumpster. And then, just as he is about to un-suit and change into his regular clothes, he feels a sudden sharp prick in the back of his shoulder and his Spidey senses go haywire.

He whirls around to see a figure standing at the end of the alleyway, holding what looks like a gun. Peter blinks in an attempt to clear his vision.

But he blacks out, instead.

-

When he wakes up, he is lying flat on his back and feeling strangely tired. He can’t even open his eyes. Someone is poking around his suit, as if hoping to find secret buttons somewhere. The cold air on Peter’s face tells him at least part of his suit has already gone missing.

“Hey where’d you put my mask?” He mutters in a slurred voice.

The hands disappear. “Oh, wow,” a man’s voice says. “Julia, he woke up _fast_.”

A female voice fills the room. “He’s supposed to wake up fast, genius. He has a fast metabolism. You just get on with things while I keep tabs on his brain activity.”

Peter feels the hands return, fidgeting around his neckline. With a lot of effort, he pulls his eyes open a little to see the face of a bearded man hovering right above his.

“Julia, I can’t figure out how to get the damn suit off, and now he’s _looking_ at me. Are you sure he’s not going to jump up and punch me?”

“If he needs another dosage, I’ll know it,” Julia briskly informs him.

Peter blinks a few times, trying to make the world a little less blurry. It doesn’t work. His vision is swimming, his limbs are heavy and his head feels like it’s filled with cotton balls.

“Look, either figure it out or just cut it open, Nick,” Julia says impatiently, her voice coming from somewhere to Peter’s right. “He’s going to be more lucid in a minute and he’ll have a bit more strength, so I want him tied op before then.”

“Uhuh,” Nick replies, his stubby fingers still pulling at the fabric.

“I’m not wearing anything under this,” Peter lies.

Nick snatches his hands back as if he has burned himself.

Julia huffs. “You’re really letting that bother you?”

“Well, I don’t want to be a perv,” Nick mutters. “He’s a little kid.”

“M’sixteen,” Peter protests groggily, trying to take in his surroundings. Everything is still fuzzy, but it looks like these bad guys picked the standard deserted warehouse to do their evil business. The room they are in is dark, smells dusty and sounds like it has high ceilings.

“We’ll give him his other clothes back,” Julia snaps. “Just get on with it.”

“Yeah, I s’pose,” Nick agrees, leaning back in and squinting at Peter. “Kid, how’s about you just tell me how to take that suit off?”

“That’s a hard pass,” Peter informs him, craning his neck a little to look towards his right and get a glimpse at this Julia woman. All he sees is a pair of legs disappearing behind some sort of machine mounted on a trolley. “You guys wanna experiment on me or something?” He murmurs, turning his head back.

“She’s just measuring your brain activity,” Nick informs him, leaning to his right and pulling Peter’s backpack towards him. He turns it over and shakes out some of the contents. “Here’s your other clothes… Shirt, pants… hey, there’s no underwear in here. Are you really naked under that or did you make that up?”

Peter doesn’t respond. He slowly lifts an arm to his head, feeling the sticker taped to his temple, and the wire connected to it.

“Don’t let him take that off!” Julia snaps. “This is why I need him tied up, Nick!”

Nick swats Peter’s hand away from his head. “Look kid, if you don’t tell me how to take the suit off, I’m just going to cut through it. I don’t think that’s what you want.”

The guy has a point. Having a million-dollar suit ruined like that would be a painful waste. And Peter doesn’t really see how being in the suit is any sort of advantage right now. So he lifts his hand to his chest to press the Spider logo, and the fabric drops away from him.

“Oh, wow, that was easy,” Nick says. “Okay – I’m going to take that off, but I promise I won’t look. Oh wait, Julia, he _is_ wearing underwear.”

“Good to know,” Julia drawls.

“That means you looked,” Peter points out.

“Well, doesn’t matter now, does it?” Nick says, chucking the suit into a corner and picking up Peter’s regular clothes. “Okay, now I’m going to put on your shirt.”

“Thanks for taking me through all this step by step,” Peter says.

“He’s getting a little cheeky, Julia, does that mean he needs more sedative?”

“For the tenth time, I’ll tell you when he needs more, Nick!”

Peter can actually feel his head clear a little. But his limbs are still basically useless strands of cooked spaghetti, and even lifting his head takes a lot of effort. He also feels strangely giggly at the weirdness of the situation: Some evil guy, whose plan is still entirely vague right now, is currently hoisting up his pants, frowning as if that is a terribly complicated task for him.

“Dude, I’m basically pudding right now,” he says. “Do you really need to tie me up?”

“Yea-eah,” Nick says, taking out the rope. “Because it might wear off.”

“That seems like a safety hazard for you guys,” Peter says, thinking that it would be obsolete to point out that, once the sedative _does_ wear off, he’ll be able to break out off those ropes in a second.

“We’ll give you more sedatives before then,” Nick explains patiently. “But we don’t want you asleep either, because then we can’t talk to you.”

“Stop babbling so much, Nick!” Julia snaps. “Is he tied up, yet?”

“Yeah,” Nick says in a mulish tone, pulling Peter into a seated position and setting him with his back against a wall.

Right. So there’s going to be talking involved. Peter begins to think, right about now, that it’s probably time to start coming up with an escape plan. And somehow, he has a feeling that he’ll have more luck with Nick than with Julia.

“The timing of this is really inconvenient,” he informs Nicks.

Nick blinks at him. “How so?”

“I was on my way to a job interview,” Peter says. “I wanted to get a job as a washer upper down the street from where I live. Just to help pay the bills. And actually _showing up_ for the interview is usually pretty instrumental for _getting_ the job. So I don’t think I’ll get it, now.”

“What do you mean?” Nick asks, looking hopelessly confused. “Why would you get a job? You have plenty of money, right?”

Peter frowns a little. Is that why these two kidnapped him? “No, I don’t have money. Why would you think I did? I live in a tiny apartment with my aunt who works double shifts. I’m not exactly well off.”

“Oh,” Nick says, his face falling. “We kind of figured you _were_. Because you’re famous. And famous people are usually rich.”

“Really?” Peter deadpans. “ _Really?_ You think people pay me to catch criminals or something? Do you think the government hired me? I’m scraping to get by, just like every other teenager. Did you think I had a six-figure salary?”

“All right,” Nick says, sounding annoyed. “I see your point, but I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“You tied me up,” Peter points out. “I don’t have to be nice to you.”

“He says he hasn’t got any money, Julia,” Nick murmurs.

Footsteps, and then Julia kneels next to Nick and Peter can finally see her face. She has red hair that clashes horribly with her pink lipstick. “I heard him,” she says, her eyes narrowed. “But I’m not sure I believe him. Doesn’t SHIELD have plenty of funding for their super-heroes?”

“I don’t work with SHIELD,” Peter murmurs. “Don’t trust ‘em. And anyway, I don’t need ‘em either. I’m just the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.”

“Hm,” Julia merely says. She takes Peter’s backpack and begins to sort through it. She checks Peter’s wallet first, which is empty. Then she takes out his phone and turns it on. “Facial recognition,” she chuckles with clear contempt. “How secure. Smile, honey.” She turns the screen towards Peter, who scowls heavily.

The phone still unlocks, anyway.

“Let’s see if our little Spidey knows any rich people who may want to bail him out. Ooh, look. Tony Stark is in here,” Julia exclaims as she scrolls through the contacts. “That’s so sweet. Were you close? Did you have a good little cry when he died?”

“We only worked together a few times,” Peter explains through gritted teeth. “What’s your point? Do you want to try and blackmail a dead person?”

“Yeah, Jules,” Nick echoes. “What’s your point?”

Julia rolls her eyes. “He had a wife and a kid, didn’t he? And supposedly some rich friends?”

“Yeah…” Nick slowly says, frowning a little.

“Do I need to spell it out for you? Someone might still be hanging on to Stark’s old phone. Someone with access to a lot of cash. Do you get it now, or do I need to draw you some pictures?”

“Hey, you don’t have to be mean to him,” Peter says.

Nick has a look on his face that says he agrees with Peter. Julia ignores them both, her finger hovering above the call-button. “Maybe I’ll get that sweet widow of his on the phone. Does Pepper Potts like you, kid?”

“No, she hates me,” Peter promptly replies. Which is far from the truth, but he really _really_ doesn’t want these two to call this particular number. He needs to get out of this mess by himself.

“I’m going to step outside and make the call,” Julia informs Nick. “Don’t want this kid to yell out our location while I’m calling, after all. Now, if that machine starts beeping, that means his brain is getting too active and he needs more sedatives. So when that happens, call me inside, do you understand me?”

“Yeah, Jules, I’m not stupid,” Nick tells her.

She gives him a flat look before standing up and leaving the room, phone in hand.

“I’m the brains behind this operation, you know,” Nick confides in Peter. “I just needed Julia to calculate the right dosage of sedatives for me. She’s good with numbers and all. But other than that, I’m the smart one.”

“I can tell,” Peter assures him. “Let’s hook this brain machine up to _her_. I bet it’ll just flatline.”

Nick giggles like a little kid.

“What do you need money for?” Peter asks.

Nick shrugs. “What does anyone need money for? I’ve been having my eye on this really nice corvette. A green one.”

“Nice,” Peter says, wondering if he should point out that his suit is extremely valuable and right now just lying in a corner, up for grabs. Nah, he probably shouldn’t. “Are you two married?”

“No man,” Nick says. “I’m a lone wolf. No one can tame me.”

“I see.”

“She’s my landlord.”

Peter pulls up his eyebrows. “Is that right?”

“Yeah. She owns some apartment buildings. Gotta say, the rent is insanely high. But where isn’t it, nowadays? Anyways, she heard about my impressive criminal record and wanted to collaborate.”

The machine gives a beep.

“Impressive? Really?” Peter asks, carefully flexing his fingers to see if there’s any give in the ropes. “What did you do, steal a few wallets?”

“Na-ah. Do you know the statue that used to be in Madeleine Square?”

“Yeah. It disappeared overnight. Wait – did _you_ take that?”

The machine beeps again.

Nick chuckles proudly. “Yeah. My best work.”

“That thing is just a big chunk of rock, though,” Peter points out. He still can’t break out of the ropes, but he knows he could probably stand up right now, and maybe even run. Should he take his chances? “Did you even get any money for it?”

“No, but it looks nice in the corner of my bathroom.”

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE NICK I GAVE YOU _ONE_ JOB!” Julia screeches as she rushes into the room. “Can’t you hear the beeping?”

Peter jumps to his feet but Nick, proving to be faster than he is smart, reacts fast and grabs him around the waist, pushing him to the floor. Julia is on his side in an instant, flashing a needle.

“Ah – that’s mean,” Peter says, before everything goes black once again.

-

Peter becomes aware of noises around him, but when he opens his eyes, he can’t see anything. He can feel that he is slumped against a wall and his hands are still tied.

“Waking up, are you?”

Peter knows that voice… “Nick? Hey, Nick. S’really dark here,” he murmurs.

“You shouldn’t have tried to escape,” Nick says, sounding genuinely disappointed, as if Peter had personally insulted him.

Somewhere in Peter’s fuzzy brain, he knows there has to be about a million witty comebacks on how kidnapping generally works. But he can’t form any coherent thoughts right now.

“Anyway, Jules got to voicemail first, but then the widow called her back later,” Nick continues. “And she said she’ll wire the money. So we’re good. Just sit tight for a little while.”

Peter couldn’t make sense of that, yet. Jules? Widow? “Who died?” He asks, feeling confused.

A chuckle, now. “Tony Stark died, kiddo. Don’t you remember? Snapped himself right over the edge. Sure makes life easier for people like me.”

Pieces are slowly falling into place. “Hmm, right,” Peter murmurs. “Why’s it so dark?”

“We blindfolded you. Julia was pretty mad.”

“What else is new…” Peter mutters. “Is she still here?”

“Yeah, she’s standing right there. But she’s ignoring us.”

Peter hears a slight huff to his right.

“Okay,” he says. “Where were we? Statue on Madeleine Square… color me impressed. What else ya got?”

Nick starts to talk about something hotdog cart-related. Peter doesn’t listen. He needs to keep Nick talking, and keep Julia annoyed, while he figures out what to do. Because if Julia really talked to Pepper, then Peter is pretty sure he knows what will happen next… And that’s something he _really_ doesn’t want to happen. Maybe if he can get Pepper on the phone, he can tell her to abort the mission and let him figure this one out himself.

“Hey, can _I_ call Pepper?” He asks.

Nick cuts off the story he was telling. “Why?” He then asks, sounding suspicious.

“Just to chat. Don’t you want to give her any proof that you really have me?”

“We sent her a picture while you were blacked out.”

“Ew,” Peter says. “That sounds creepy.”

“Anyways, we’re expecting the money any moment. She said she’d do it within the hour, so…”

Within the hour? Peter shakes his head a little. “How long was I out?”

“Almost an hour.”

“What? How much of that stuff did you give me?”

“Plenty!” Julia snaps, apparently no longer able to keep her tongue. “Because you were being annoying.”

“Oh, _I’m_ annoying? All I did today was patrol a little and prepare to go to my stupid job interview! You drugged me, groped me, tried to rob me, and blackmailed my friends!”

“I didn’t grope you!” Nick protests.

“Hey kid,” Julia growls “We don’t need you talking for this part anyway. So shut up, or I give you another dose.”

Peter shuts up.

“Now,” Julia begins, and judging from the sound of footsteps, she is beginning to pace the room. “It’s been almost an hour and no money transfer. That widow is stalling. And she might still have a lot of contacts in the super hero world. If she’s trying to pull something, we need to get on top of that. I’m gonna call her back and tell her to either transfer the money right now, or I’ll just put a bullet through this kid’s-“

BANG.

Both Nick and Julia scream and the building shakes. Peter is sure that either a wall or a part of the ceiling must have collapsed. He makes another weak attempt to struggle against the ropes, but Julia _really_ knocked him out good this time. He can barely even feel his fingers.

“WHAT IS THAT!” Nick hollers. “What the hell is that!? And what are THOSE!?” More bangs. More screaming. Plus a few weird sounds that Peter can’t immediately place. There is utter chaos for about thirty seconds.

Then, there is silence.

Peter hears footsteps approaching; a warm, steadying hand on his shoulder. The blindfold is pulled away. Peter squints against the sudden light and blinks a few times, until Tony’s face swims into view.

“Hey Tony,” Peter whispers.

“Hey kid,” Tony says, carefully plucking the wire away from Peter’s temple. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Tony asks as he cuts through the ropes with one motion.

“I didn’t want them to call you,” Peter murmurs, carefully rubbing his wrists. “You’re supposed to be dead and everything. I didn’t want to blow your cover.”

Tony shakes his head. “Kid, when it comes to your safety, _always_ call me, all right?”

“But now they’re going to tell everyone about you!” Peter says, worried. “Unless… you’re not going to kill them, are you?”

“Peter at his finest,” Tony drawls. “Worried about the faith of his kidnappers, seconds after being freed. And no, I won’t kill them. Why do you think I did all _this?_ ” And he motions to the room behind him.

Peter looks. He blinks, shakes his head and looks again.

Nick and Julia are unconscious, lying in the middle of the room, roped together. But that isn’t the weird part. Giant balloons are floating around, bouncing against the ceiling. A large robotic _dog_ of all things is mechanically walking through the room, switching direction whenever it comes close to a wall. But the weirdest thing is the giant, holographic projection of a miming clown in the middle of the room, who is currently pretending to be stuck in a glass box. It looks like they have crossed over into a weird alternate dimension.

“Tony, what did you do? Is that a robot dog?”

“FRIDAY, kill that clown,” Tony says. The hologram disappears, which means the room is now one third part less weird. “Here’s what’s going to happen next,” Tony says with a smile. “The cops are set to arrive in about ten minutes. They will find two tied-up crooks who are both on their wanted list. And when those crooks wake up, they will tell everyone how they had kidnapped Spider-Man, but he was freed by a robotic dog, a holographic clown, giant balloons, and – if they managed to get a glimpse of me – the ghost of Tony Stark. Now, how many people do you think will believe that?”

Peter chuckles, relief filling him up. His feelings of guilt melt away, and all that is left is his happiness at seeing Tony again, after the man had moved so far away from the city. “Nice plan. So we should get out of here?”

Tony nods, carefully pulling Peter to his feet. “Wanna fly back with me and have dinner at our place, tonight? Pepper was pretty worried about you.”

“I’d like that,” Peter says. “But… are you going to carry me?”

“Happy is on the roof with my plane. I didn’t fly out in my suit, because people would see me,” Tony explains with a shrug. “So you can kick back with an inflight movie and a glass of kiddie champagne. Which is basically bubbly grape juice.”

“Cool,” Peter says, grinning. “Can we go past Queens and pick up my aunt?”

“That sounds like a great way for me to keep a low profile,” Tony jokes. “Let’s do it. Help me pop these balloons, first?”


	34. The imposter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash has spend over a month recovering from a concussion. When he finally returns to school, he is in for a suprise. [prompt by Cosmic_skye]

Flash was beginning to think he was still having some bad aftereffects from his concussion. Because this was the second time today he had seen that man walking through the school hallways. That man who looked exactly like Tony Stark, but obviously couldn’t possibly _be_ Tony Stark.

It had to be the concussion. The stress of his first day back at school, after having been confined to his own house for more than a month.

Flash narrowed his eyes as he kept his gaze on the Stark-imposter standing at the other end of the hallway. The man was currently chatting up Mr. Harisson. He was wearing an ugly, woolen sweater: A dead give-away that this wasn’t actually the real Tony Stark.

Flash felt a tap on his shoulder and turned.

“Hey,” Abraham said. “Wanna go sunbathe? Maybe quiz each other for tomorrow’s history test?”

“Yeah, okay.”

They went outside and stretched out in the grass in front of their school building. Abraham was full on enjoying the warm April sun. Flash wasn’t as comfortable as he had hoped. The bright light still gave him a bit of a headache. So, when someone stepped in front of them, blocking some of the sunlight, Flash was initially grateful. Until he looked up and saw the guy with the ugly sweater standing in front of them.

“Hey Abraham,” the Tony Stark-imposter said. “Did you finish your classes?”

“Yeah,” Abraham said. “Are you looking for Peter? I think he needed to talk to Mr. Dell. Classroom 203.”

“Cheers,” the man said. “Enjoy the sunshine!” He moved away, towards the entrance.

Flash gave Abraham a little kick “Do you know that guy?”

Abraham glanced up for a moment. “Yeah, he’s been coming here for a few weeks, now. He’s organizing a science fair with a few other parents.”

“He’s kinda weird, right?”

Abraham sat up, looking down at Flash with a confused expression. “Why?”

“Don’t you _see_ it?”

Abraham just blinked at him. Flash huffed impatiently. “That guy is totally trying to steal Tony Stark’s look. He looks _exactly_ like him!”

Abraham stared at him for all of three seconds before he burst into loud chortles, rolling back into the grass and howling with laughter.

Flash crossed his arms, failing to see the humor in what was obviously a serious case of identity theft.

“You,” Abraham managed, wiping a tear away, “are _such_ an idiot.”

“What?” Flash snapped.

Abraham pushed himself back into a seated position. “That _is_ Tony Stark, dude,” he explained with a wide grin.

“Is that what he’s been telling everybody?” Flash sneered. “You are so gullible. As if Tony Stark would just be walking around a random high school in a cheap, ugly sweater like that.”

“Rude,” Abraham pointed out. “He doesn’t have to dress up for _everything,_ you know. And I told you; he’s helping to organize the science fair. Plus, it’s not random at all. You know he and Peter know each other.”

“Peter _Parker_?”

“Yup,” Abraham said, stretching out on the grass again and closing his eyes. “He’s a cool dude, actually. He’s usually here on Thursdays. Took us all out for ice cream last week. And sometimes he joins in a little game of soccer between classes.”

Flash gaped at him. “You are deluded if you think that guy is actually Tony Stark.”

“Fine,” Abraham said, not bothering to open his eyes. “Don’t believe me. I don’t care.”

Grumbling under his breath, Flash carefully got to his feet. Apparently, he was the only sensible person left in this school, and he would set out to prove that there was an imposter among them! Determined, he trudged back to the front entrance.

-

Tony rapped his knuckles against the open classroom door, and Peter and Mr. Dell looked up.

“Hey, Tony,” Mr. Dell said airily. “Come on in.”

“Thanks, Julius,” Tony replied, sauntering in and giving Peter a one-sided hug. “Hey kid. Wanna go out for some donuts or something?”

“Don’t you have a science-fair meeting?”

“No, I already have everything sorted for today.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Mr. Dell said. “It’s really great to have you involved in this science fair. It’s motivated so many more students to participate this year.”

“What are you making for the science fair?” Tony asked Peter.

“I don’t want to say! You’ll probably try to hijack my project if I do.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, like the time I had to write a report on African zoology for biology, and then you wanted to put me on a plane and fly me out to Africa to do field research.”

Tony gave a casual shrug. “Still can’t believe you didn’t go.”

Peter shook his head, a smile on his face. “Let’s just go. Thank you, Mr. Dell, see you tomorrow.”

When they left the room, Tony almost bumped into a boy with dark hair. Seeing a guilty expression flash across the boy’s face, Tony wondered if he had been listening at the door. “Excuse me,” he said politely, stepping aside.

“Are you really Tony Stark?” The boy blurted out.

Tony felt a little surprised. He thought that the students had all gotten past their starstruck stage by now, after he had spent so much time at the school this last month. “Yeah,” he said. “Haven’t we met?”

The boy shook his head, before holding out his hand. “I’m Eugene. But everyone calls me Flash.”

“Hello Flash,” Tony said, shaking the boy’s hand. “Are you in Peter’s year?”

“Oh yeah,” Flash said. “And we get along great. Actually, I think we should hang out more often.” He chuckled a little, but Tony noticed that Peter stayed suspiciously quiet.

“That’s good to hear,” Tony said slowly.

“I’ve just been at home with a concussion for the last few weeks, so that’s why you haven’t seen me around. I missed the ice cream and everything. So, what are you up to?” He directed that last question at Peter.

“Going out for a drink,” Peter said a little stiffly.

“Cool. Maybe I can join. I’ll quiz you for tomorrow’s history test?’

Tony saw Peter give the tiniest of frowns from the corner of his eyes. The kid always thought that he was hard to read, but he really wasn’t. He was easier to read than a Dr. Seuss book. Tony wasn’t entirely sure what was wrong, but it was clear to see that Peter didn’t like his classmate. “Sorry, I don’t think so,” he told Flash. “I need some quality time with my kid today.”

Flash scrunched up his nose a little, as if Tony had just admitted to having a particularly disgusting taste in food. Tony thought that was quite telling. “We’ll see you around,” he said, before laying a hand on Peter’s shoulder and steering him outside.

“You don’t like him, do you?” He asked once they had both stepped into Tony’s car and pulled the doors shut.

Peter merely shrugged as he fiddled with the buttons on the radio.

Tony started the car.

“He’s a jerk,” Peter finally said. “Please don’t ever invite him along to anything.”

“Duly noted,” Tony calmly responded.

“And I had kinda hoped his concussion would take longer to heal.”

“I’ll see if I can drop something heavy on him next week,” Tony promised. “I’ll start with a large book and then work my way up.”

“Tony!” his mentee squeaked and Tony chuckled.

“I haven’t even told you _why_ I don’t like him,” Peter pointed out.

“Well, I trust your judgement,” Tony said, and he pulled the car out of the parking spot.

“Mind if we make an extra stop on the way? I wanna buy some more of these really comfy sweaters.”


	35. A new passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is bit by a spider on a school trip, and his parents aren’t sure how to deal with his new powers. [AnnLeigh]
> 
> (tag: AU where Peter is Tony & Pepper’s biological son.)

Lately, Peter had been in a bit of a quiet mood. He found school boring and barely challenging. He didn’t much like to interact with people, and didn’t partake in extracurricular activities, preferring to stay in his room all day. He used to always be up for building new things with Tony in the workshop, but now that he was in those difficult teenage years, he didn’t want to spend all that time with his ‘lame’ father anymore. All in all, it seemed like he didn’t really have anything to be passionate about.

Pepper just hoped that today’s trip to Oscorp had sparked some of that old enthusiasm in her son.

Now, Peter had never exactly been _tan_ , what with all the time he spent indoors playing videogames. But when Peter entered the living room this afternoon, Pepper was pretty sure that he was even paler than usual.

“Hey, honey. How was the school trip?”

“Dunno,” Peter murmured, hugging himself. The trip had been a disaster. He had been an inch away from vomiting all over the bus when they returned to school. “I feel a little sick. I think I ate a bad sandwich at lunch. Or maybe it was because that stupid bug bit me. I’m going to bed.”

Peter hadn’t even made it to the stairs when a sudden headache and dizziness hit him like a tidal wave. He pretty much collapsed on the spot, squeezing his eyes shut. Suddenly, the lights hurt. He could feel his mother’s hands grabbing his shoulders, could hear her saying something, but he couldn’t make out the words. He could feel himself getting hoisted up and then pulled towards the couch. And at that point he pretty much completely blacked out.

It felt like only a few seconds later that he suddenly became aware of noises again. But they were strange noises, that he had never heard before. As if he could make out thousands of different pairs of footsteps echoing around the Stark building beneath their feet. He carefully opened his eyes and recognized the blurry living room. The blurry windows, he blurry curtains. He didn’t immediately see his mother. He didn’t think she’d leave when he was this sick, but maybe she had needed to get some help or something.

“Mom…?” He called out in a hoarse voice. “Are you still there?”

“You’re sleeping on me,” came a voice from right beside his ear.

“Oh,” Peter said sheepishly, pushing himself up. Only now did he notice that he was basically sitting in his mother’s lap like a toddler. Feeling slightly embarrassed, he squirmed away, instead huddling on the couch next to her. “How long was I asleep?”

He felt her hand brushing away a lock of his hair that was still plastered to his sweaty forehead. “Almost an hour. FRIDAY thinks you had a reaction to that bite, but even she is not sure. How are you feeling?”

“Better. But weird…” Peter murmured. He kept blinking, but his vision wasn’t getting any clearer. Suddenly, he realized something and he slowly reached up to take off his glasses. “Woahh…”

His mother peered at him with a concerned look on her face. “What? What is it, Peter?”

“I can see everything!” Peter said. “Like, without my glasses! I can see everything!”

A short silence fell.

“FRIDAY, get Tony on the phone, right now,” Pepper said.

-

“His sight has improved, his hearing has improved, his reflexes have improved…” Tony listed as he slowly paced around his lab.

“So, what, he’s the new superman?” Pepper asked.

“No,” said Tony. “Unfortunately, he doesn’t fly. Not yet, at least. I guess we’ll just have to do a few experiments.” He looked far more excited about that than Pepper thought was appropriate in the situation.

“I see,” she said. “Just a few ground rules. Number one: none of you will be pulling any dangerous stunt in the name of ‘scientific experiments’. Number two: no one else is finding out about this _any_ time soon. We’re keeping this between us. And number three: Peter, get off the ceiling!”

Tony whirled around.

“Look, dad, I’m on the ceiling!” Peter crowed, waving at him from where he was hanging from the ceiling tiles by one hand.

“ _That_ ,” Tony said, “is one seriously weird superpower.”

Pepper looked on with a frown. “Once you know what it is, how soon do you think you can fix it?”

“ _Fix it?_ ” Peter squeaked, dropping to the floor.

Pepper winced at the _thud_. “Yes,” she then said evenly. “When my son has had a serious reaction to an insect bite, and no one knows what’s wrong with him or what might yet happen to him, I’ll thank you to try and fix it!”

“Yeah, okay,” Tony said, looking disappointed.

-

Eight days went by. Eight days of researching spiders and testing blood while Peter crawled up and down the walls. Pepper had begrudgingly agreed to having Bruce come on board to help Tony with his ‘experiments’. She didn’t want the news about Peter’s powers fall into the wrong hands, but she trusted Bruce. Bruce had been staying at their house for three days now, and still no luck.

“Pep, this might just be it,” Tony said one afternoon as they sat at the kitchen table together. “And honestly, I don’t know if we should even be looking for a cure. Peter only seems to be happy with the new situation. It’s not freaking him out at all, he loves walking on the ceiling.”

Pepper steepled her fingers together. “I’m just worried that he might feel different once the novelty wears off. One week isn’t long enough to know if you really want something for the rest of your life.”

“Point taken,” Tony conceded.

The door burst open and Peter trudged in. He had a wide smile on his face and his eyes were glittering in a way that Pepper hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Nice day at school?”

“Nope,” Peter said. “Boring day. But on my way home, something awesome happened. This old Dominican lady had a _big_ bag of groceries and was trying to cross the street, and this biker didn’t even see her, but I saw it because I heard him coming from a mile away and I, like, swooped in and I pulled her out of the way and saved her! Like, that biker would have totally crashed into her. And then I carried her groceries home for her. She was really nice, she bought me a churro on the way!”

Pepper blinked. She hadn’t heard Peter ramble like that since the boy had taken apart his own damn computer, wrecking it, and then had proceeded to convince his parents to buy him a new one, anyway. “That’s nice, honey.”

“It _is_ nice,” Peter agreed. “I can use my speed and my sight and everything to help people!”

Pepper felt her stomach clench at the idea of Peter going down the Iron-Man route.

Even Tony didn’t look _too_ crazy about this new development. “Let’s not get any dangerous ideas…” He warned.

“Not dangerous,” Peter said with an eyeroll. “I’m not going to fight aliens. Just help people in the neighborhood out with little stuff. You always said I needed to get out more! C’mon please? _Pleaaase?_ ”

Pepper smiled a little. “Well, we can hardly forbid you from helping the elderly cross the street. And if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“Thanks, mom,” Peter said, rushing forwards and enveloping her in a tight hug.

“Want to go down to the workshop and think of a cool nickname for your neighborhood superhero?” Tony suggested.

“Cool!” Peter said, and he took off towards the stairs like a bullet.

It looked like Peter had found a new passion after all.


	36. Mr. Meowington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter comes to the Compound with a kitten stuck to his hand. Can't tell who is sticking to whom, though. [prompt by Butterflygrl]

“Is this your cat? Excuse me, sir, is this your cat?”

Peter has been shoving the little, white kitten into random people’s faces for about half an hour now. A few people have stopped to coo at the kitten and pet its tiny head, but so far, the owner has not come forward.

Peter had scooped the kitten up from the sidewalk, when he spotted it almost wandering into traffic. The kitten has a beautiful, winter white fur and huge blue eyes, and doesn’t seem at all perturbed to be lost in the big, scary city. He is hooking his tiny nails into the gloves of Peter’s suit and purrs quietly.

“Ouch,” Peter murmurs, plucking at the tiny, white paws. “No, meow-meow, that suit is expensive.”

The kitten starts nibbling at Peter’s thumb, and Peter’s heart melts. “Are you hungry, little buddy? Maybe we should fix that first. Let’s take you home.”

-

“I _had_ to take it, Pepper. It wouldn’t let go of me.”

“It wouldn’t let go of you, or you wouldn’t let go of it?” Pepper asks dryly.

Peter presses the kitten closer to his chest, pouting. “Can I keep it? He’s all alone and no one wants him and he obviously wants to live with me.”

“Tony is not that fond of cats – oh, he’s _very_ cute, though,” Pepper agrees as Peter sets the kitten down in her lap. “He must be hungry. We don’t have any appropriate food in the compound.”

“I’ll go out and buy some!” Peter immediately offers. “You just stay here and bond with Mr. Meowington!”

And he takes off like a rocket.

-

Peter had been totally convinced that his plan was foolproof. He would go buy some food and leave Pepper alone with the kitten, and when he got back, she would be so desperately in love with little Mr. Meowington that she would absolutely let Peter keep him.

But when he returns to the compound with a little can of kitten food that Karen had recommended, he finds a far more unpleasant surprise in the compound living room.

Pepper is balancing Mr. Meowington on her knee, carefully scratching his belly. Her tablet is lying on the couch next to her, and when she spots Peter, she immediately turns the screen towards him. “Look at that!”

There is a new post on the neighborhood’s facebook page, with a picture of a white kitten, sleeping on a young boy’s shoulder.

“Our little Mimi escaped while we were trying to move in a new couch, and we haven’t been able to find her,” Pepper reads out. “If anyone has seen her, please contact us. My son is inconsolable.”

Peter crosses his arms. “Well, that’s sad. But obviously that’s a different cat, because this cat is not a girl.”

Pepper looks amused. “As if you would know.”

“And obviously, they are not good cat-carers if they let Mr. Meowington escape like that,” Peter stubbornly insists.

“You know that’s not true, accidents happen,” Pepper says. “Look at that little boy, he is missing his kitty-cat!”

Peter doesn’t look at the screen anymore. He just looks down at the kitten with a deep frown.

“Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man…” Pepper coaxes.

“That’s mean…” Peter mutters.

-

“Mimi!” The boy cries out, carefully taken the kitten from his mother and dropping a little kiss in its white fur. “You’re home!”

“Look, Georgie; this young man rescued her,” his mother explains, pointing at Peter who is standing in the doorway.

“Thank you, sir!” Georgie says, looking up at Peter with bright eyes.

“You’re welcome, buddy. Take good care of her.”

Georgie nods fervently, pressing the kitten against his cheek. “Super-super good care!”

“All right then,” Peter says. “Stay in school!” And he forces himself to turn away and leave, not giving into the temptation to snatch the kitten back and make a run for it.

Pepper is waiting for him by the car, on the corner of the street. “I’m proud of you, Peter,” she says.

“Whatever,” Peter grumbles, pulling the car door open and stepping in.

“You made a boy happy, and you gave a kitten a loving home,” Pepper says as she starts the car. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“I guess…”

They drive in silence for a while. Peter broodily stares out of the window. After a few minutes, he notices that Pepper is not taking the usual route, and he throws her a questioning glance. She just responds with a knowing look, before suddenly parking the car next to the sidewalk.

“Pepper, what…” Peter begins, but his voice trails off when he notices the entrance to the animal shelter to his right.

“I called Tony,” Pepper says with a smile. “And he agrees that if you take _full_ responsibility for your pet, you can have one.”

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

-

“Tony – meet Mr. Meowington Junior!”

“Peter… that’s a puppy,” Tony says.

“Uh – I know,” Peter says, as if Tony is the dumb one. He is holding the puppy out to Tony, his arms outstrechted. The puppy is white and has big ears, and looks around the living room with guarded curiosity.

“You named a puppy ‘Mr Meowington’?” Tony clarifies.

“ _Junior_ ,” Peter emphasizes, before cradling the puppy to his chest again. “The people at the pound said no one would adopt him because he’s got a bad leg, look!”

Tony now sees that one of the puppy’s hind-legs is just a short stump.

“Will you help me make him a little set of wheels, so he can run around?”

“Sure,” Tony says. “We’ll make one with lasers.”

“And little wings.”

“And maybe its own AI.”

Mr. Meowington licks Peter’s cheek and Peter giggles. “Okay, let’s do it.”


	37. The reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A high school reunion in MidTown [prompt by StarkPotts]  
> (tags: Adult Peter Parker)

Mr. Harrington has detached himself from the large crowd of people and moved to the table in the corner to pour himself another drink. Much like most of his fellow teachers, he loves high school reunions. It’s always nice to see how all those little buggers turned out. Today’s reunion is well attended, with a lot of regulars who have been coming here for decades now, but several new faces, too.

Mr. Harrington glances up at the TV screen above the table. It was meant to project this afternoon’s schedule, but someone messed up somewhere, because it is just broadcasting the news. If he remembers correctly, he is due to teach a fun little ‘mini-class’ in about twenty minutes.

“Mr. Harrington,” a polite voice greets him.

He turns to see a young man with brown hair and glasses smile back at him. “Mr. Peter Parker!” He says, impressed with himself for immediately remembering that name. Some students stick with you. “First time at our reunion, am I not mistaken?”

“Yes, I skipped a few,” Peter confirms. “Very nice to see you again.”

“And you. Did you have a long journey to get here?”

Peter gives a bashful smile. “No, actually, I still live in Queens.”

“Oh, how nice. Old habits, huh?”

“Yes, I love the city, and that neighborhood especially. I don’t think I’ll be leaving it any time soon. You might be teaching my children one day.”

“Oh, you have children?”

“First one on the way,” Peter says, looking equal parts nervous and delighted at the prospect. “We’re in for an exciting few months.”

Mr. Harrington hums. “Enjoy it. Before you know it, they’re graduating and off to college.”

“I suppose.”

“Do you remember,” Mr. Harrington says, “when Tony Stark turned up to your graduation? Teachers still talk about it. None of us had any idea that you two were close enough for that to happen.”

Peter pulls a face. “I mostly remember how, later that evening, he sung me a self-composed song about my high school years while playing air guitar.”

“Did he really?”

“He was pretty drunk by that point, to be honest. I wish I’d caught it on camera. I would have had blackmail material for life.”

“Are you still in touch?”

Peter nods. “Oh, yes. In fact, I’m meeting him later.”

“That’s nice. His daughter went to this school, too, but I never got to teach her.”

“She’s here,” Peter says, scanning the crowd of people with his eyes. “She’s the one who dragged me along this year. I was sort of dreading it, but it’s not so bad. If I can find her, I’ll introduce you.”

“Do you remember,” Mr. Harrington says, now gaining some steam, “that time you tried to impress Michelle Jones and raced Eugene Thompson around the school building?”

“I.. wasn’t trying to impress anyone,” Peter splutters. “Just a little friendly competition.”

 _Yeah, sure,_ Mr. Harrington thinks. “I believe poor Eugene collapsed during the third lap. You weren’t even out of breath. After all those years on the academic decathlon team… Turns out you should have been joining the actual _physical_ decathlon the whole time.”

“I don’t think I would have made it past the discuss throw,” Peter admits. “My aim has never been very good.”

“Did you ever get to go on a date with Miss Jones?”

Peter holds up his hand, showing a gold ring. “We’re married. Five years.”

Mr. Harrington almost drops his drink. “My goodness!” He exclaims. “So a running competition is the way to a woman’s heart?”

“I hardly think so,” Peter says with a smile. “It’s a lot more likely that she fell in love with me _despite_ those antics.”

“I believe that. Is she here tonight?”

The corners of Peter’s lips quirk up. “No. She wanted me out of the house so she could watch ‘The Office’ on repeat.”

“You don’t like that show?”

“I do. But she says I talk too much during it. And she’s in her final trimester, so her patience is wearing thin.”

“Are you having a boy or a girl?”

“Yes,” says Peter.

Mr. Harrington chuckles. “Fair enough, don’t tell me.”

A young lady with long brown hair suddenly pops up next to Peter and squeezes his arm.

“Hey, Morgan,” Peter greets. “Getting bored already? This is Mr. Harrington, my science teacher.”

“I’m not bored,” Morgan says as she shakes Mr. Harrington’s hand. “None of my old classmates are here, though. I suppose most of them think it’s to soon for a reunion. It’s only been two years since we graduated.”

“Yes, it is unusual for students to come back so soon,” Mr. Harrington agrees. “Nice to see you here though.”

“Well, I always loved this school,” Morgan says. “It was the only place where I could get into my passions without my father breathing down my neck. That’s why I went to college in Singapore.”

“Doesn’t stop your dad from flying out once a month,” Peter teases.

“I can handle him once a month. I just hide all my projects in my friends room and pretend I’m currently minoring in political sciences. He can’t stand that.”

“Do you remember,” Mr. Harrington says to Peter, “the time you almost caused an explosion in the chemistry lab?”

“I don’t know this story,” Morgan says, sounding intrigued. Peter just looks awkward.

Mr. Harrington nods. “Oh yes. I came in; his back is turned to his project that is already glowing red hot and discharging smoke. He’s lucky I walked in when I did.”

“I was,” Peter agrees.

“I hope you stayed away from dangerous chemicals since then,” Mr. Harrington jokes.

Peter goes a little red and doesn’t immediately respond.

“He’s a chemist,” Morgan says with a wide smile. “At MIT. With unlimited access to all their labs.”

“Oh,” Mr. Harrington says, chuckling a little, though he feels bad, too. “I was just kidding, you know. You had great marks in chemistry. I’m sure they’re lucky to have you.”

“The head of my department _usually_ agrees,” Peter says, still with a bashful smile.

Morgan suddenly squeezes Peter’s arm again, looking up at the TV screen above the table. The news is still playing, and has cut to live footage from a neighborhood in New York, showing a collapsed building and a pillar of smoke rising up.

“Hey, look at that, it’s Captain America,” Mr. Harrington says, blinking up at the screen where his all time favorite hero has appeared as a tiny figure amongst the rubble.

“Excuse me,” Peter says, setting his glass down. “It has been nice seeing you again, Mr. Harrington, but I have to go now.

I believe I’m late for my meeting with Mr. Stark.”


	38. Freaky Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Peter accidentally bodyswap for a day [prompt by Peterbenjamin & sharon]
> 
> This is mostly just fun… but also: **warning** for bullying that includes some pretty crude language.

“Stark, Parker… what are you doing here?”

Tony snapped to attention and turned to face Stephen Strange, who was filling up the doorway.

“Who let you into my home?” Strange demanded.

“He did,” Tony said, waving a hand at Strange’s cloak, lurking in a corner.

Strange sighed. “I need to start locking that thing in a cabinet when I leave.”

The cloak ruffled indignantly.

Stephen Strange stepped into the room, meticulously inspecting the surroundings. “Please tell me you didn’t touch _anything_? Especially not my Wasbypod-stone or that compass over there?”

“We didn’t touch anything, you control freak,” Tony said.

Peter poked him. “Tony, be nice!”

“Oh, fine then,” Tony said. “Look, I have a rather complicated meeting tomorrow, where I have to convince a few snooty board members that it is in fact _not_ detrimental to our company’s reputation to be so closely associated with the Avenger’s initiative. They haven’t been so sure about that, lately.”

“So you propose I make a little recorded message about how great the Avengers are, or what?” Strange asked, one eyebrow lifted.

“If you’d join the Avengers, that would be even better. I’d have some good news to give them. Your reputation is still rock solid and, uh, I happen to know – because I googled it – that you went to university with one of the board members.”

Strange lifted his head a little and haughtily strode past Tony, taking a seat in his armchair and crossing his legs. “Well, as honored as I am that you are inviting me into your team now that it’s _convenient_ to you,” he scathed, “I think I’ll pass. I work alone, you see.”

“Oh, I don’t actually need you to _be_ on the team,” Tony assured him. “I just need to be able to tell people that you _are_.”

Strange gave him a long, hard stare.

“That didn’t make it sound any better, did it?”

-

“Waste of my time,” Tony grumbled, putting on his seatbelt. “Should have known he’d be too stuck up to appreciate this great honor.

“You shouldn’t have led with the board meeting,” Peter informs him as he fiddles with the radio buttons. “You made it sound like you just wanted to use him.”

“Well, I _did_. Can’t he throw me a little bone?”

“I’m sorry, is the privileged billionaire complaining about his tough, tough life?”

“I have a meeting with board members that is scheduled to go on for _four hours_ , kid. What do _you_ have to do tomorrow? Shoot spitballs at teachers?”

“Ew, no one does that anymore. We just hack their smart screens,” Peter informed him. “And actually I have to do a stupid Cooper test tomorrow. It’s a twelve minute running test, and it’s the absolute worst.”

“Oh, boo hoo,” Tony teased, mimicking Peter’s high-pitched voice. “I have to spend twelve minutes doing minor physical stuff, so my whole day is ruined. Even though I do plenty of running every day on patrol.”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Peter defended. “I can’t _actually_ run fast, because I’m not _supposed_ to be a fast runner. So, essentially, I have to pretend to be shit at running for twelve minutes and then get made fun of by the popular kids for the rest of the day. And by the way, I do _not_ sound like that.”

“Just wait until you’ve grown up,” Tony informs him, snobbishly. “Then you’ll see how easy you have it now.”

“You’re a big baby.”

“You’re a _little_ baby.”

“Ugh. Just drive.”

Tony did.

-

“TONYYYYYY!”

Tony jolted awake at the scream that resonated down the hallways. Blinking groggily, he sat up in bed as he heard footsteps thundering towards his bedroom door.

The door was slammed open, and Tony’s eyes widened when he saw _himself_ rushing into the room.

“AAAH!” The other Tony yelled, pointing straight at Tony’s face.

“What on earth…?” Pepper mumbled sleepily, sitting up a little, her long hair falling over her eyes.

Tony, meanwhile, jumped up from the bed feeling disoriented and… strangely small. “Who the hell are you?”

“It’s Peter!” The other Tony screeched, still pointing at Tony’s face. “And you’re ME!”

“Boys? What is going on?” Pepper queried, sounding confused.

Tony didn’t reply. He bounded into the ensuite bathroom to look into the mirror. “Woah,” he breathed when he spotted the face of Peter staring back at him. He rushed back to the bedroom. “I’m a teenager!”

“Yes you are, Peter,” Pepper said, a little sternly. “Why did you wake us up so early?”

“I’m Tony!’ Tony assured her. “ _That’s_ Peter.” And he pointed at the other Tony.

Pepper rubbed her head for a moment, looking exasperated. Then, she pulled the blanket closer and turned to lie back down. “Wake me up when you’ve fixed this,” she muttered.

-

The face of Stephen Strange appeared on the screen. “Mr. Parker. How may I help you this time?”

“It’s Tony, actually,” Tony bit out.

It stayed quiet for a moment. “You touched the Wasbypod-stone, didn’t you?” Strange then asked.

“I may have grazed it.”

Strange huffed. “Well, then this serves you right for not being truthful. I you had been, I could have administered an antidote last night. It’s too late for that, now.”

“Please tell me this is not permanent?” Tony asked, horrified.

“No. It wears off. You’ll notice a tingling feeling at the back of the head. I’d give it eight, maybe ten hours.”

Tony blew out a breath. “That’s manageable.” In fact, that was more than manageable. That was _perfect_. “Thanks, Tommy Cooper,” he told Stephen Strange, a plan already forming in his mind. “See you when I see you!”

He disconnected.

“All right,” Peter said, nervously wobbling up and down, which Tony thought looked really weird on his own body. “So we should just call in sick for today. No biggie.”

“Are you _kidding_ me?” Tony asked. “Heck, I’m going to high school!”

“What?” Peter protested. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Yeah. I’ll lounge around high school for a day. You do my meeting. And we’ll see who really has the hardest life!”

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “You’re on.”

-

Peter’s backpack slung over one shoulder, Tony sauntered up to Midtown Tech. As far as he was concerned, this was going to be the best day of his life.

“Peter!”

Tony turned to see Peter’s Ned jogging up to him with a wide smile. “Ready for getting murdered on the field?”

“You mean the Cooper test?” Tony asked.

Ned nodded. “I’m already out of breath even thinking about it.”

“Hey, do you think I should just run really fast today?” Tony prodded as they strolled towards the entrance together.

Ned frowned. “Wow. That’s usually my suggestion, and then you shoot it down. Aren’t you worried people will ask questions?”

“I won’t go super-human fast,” Tony said, waving Ned’s concerns away. “Just fast enough to mess with the football team kids.”

“Okay,” Ned said, eyes alit with mischief. “Just – whatever you do, make sure you outrun Flash.”

-

Tony did outrun Flash. In fact, he outran all of them. As Tony, he had always made sure to keep up his strength in case he somehow got stuck without his suit in a bad situation. But Peter’s physique was _something else_. It had been a long, long time since Tony had been able to run this many laps without running out of breath. It felt kind of great.

As it turned out, Flash was not amused.

“Did you take steroids, Parker?” He whispered at Tony as he said behind him in their history class. “Trying to impress someone? No one is impressed.”

“You’re still a loser,” he continued on when he sat behind Tony in chemistry. “And by the way, you looked like an idiot with your skinny white legs. You should never run again.”

“Shut up, dude!” Tony bit back.

“Oh, looking for trouble, _Penis Parker?_ ”

Tony set his jaw. Not because he was personally offended, but because he was angry that Peter had probably been bothered by this kid many times before and had never said anything. So, yes, matter of fact, Tony believed right now he _was_ looking for trouble.

So he turned to Flash. “You and me, outside the school, four o’clock. Bring it, mouth breather!”

Flash gaped at him a few seconds before collapsing into chuckles.

-

“Wow,” Flash said, standing up straighter. “Oh, wow. I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

His side-kick gave a dumb, hollow chuckle.

“Look kid, I don’t want to hurt you,” Tony warned, leaning against the school fence. “But from now on, you need to back the hell off. I don’t want you bothering me anymore.”

Flash crowed with laughter, his side-kick joining in. “Oh, this is rich! This. is. rich. What do you think, Leo? You put him in a chokehold, I take his phone?”

“If you try anything, I’m going to have to punch you,” Tony warned him. “And I really don’t want to do that, because I usually don’t hit children. By the way, real brave of you, letting your bulky sidekick do all the hard work.”

“Just grab him, Leo,” Flash said, and Leo stepped forward.

“I have no beef with you, Leo,” Tony said, raising a hand. “You can leave now and I won’t hurt you.”

Leo blinked, looking a little confused and throwing Flash a questioning glance.

“What’s _wrong_ with you today, Penis?” Flash spit out, getting heated. “You’re always a dumb freaking loser, but this is unprecedented. Fancy yourself an important guy now, because you work with Tony Stark? How many dicks did you have to suck to-“

Tony clocked him squarely on the nose and Flash collapsed like a house on fire.

“Shit,” Leo managed, before turning on his heel and sprinting away.

At that exact moment, with one groaning high schooler at his feet, and another one escaping around a corner, the back of Tony’s head started tingling.

“All right then,” he told Flash, who had curled up on his side, moaning as he clutched his face. “I think I made my point. Gotta go!”

-

“Peter!”

“Tony!”

Tony spread his arms wide and enveloped Peter in a hug. “You’re tiny again!”

“I’m not _tiny_ ,” Peter protested.

“Tiny spidey,” Tony said, patting him on the head and pretending he didn’t hear him.

“C’mon,” Peter said, taking Tony by the arm and pulling him towards the kitchen. “I already ordered Indian food. You didn’t get me expelled or anything today, did you?”

“Not at all,” Tony said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

Peter did the same. “Go on, you must be starving,” he said, passing the rice. “You spent eight hours in a body with a superfast metabolism.”

“Uhuh,” Tony said, loading his plate. “Say. Why didn’t you tell me Flash was such an asshole?”

Peter dropped his fork, looking up at him nervously. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing, really. Because I punched him in the face.”

Peter’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “Are you kidding?”

“Nope.”

“Damn, Tony,” Peter mumbled, looking uncomfortable. “So you made a whole mess for me to try and clean up tomorrow?”

“I’m sure you messed stuff up for me to. What about the board meeting?”

A grin appeared on Peter’s face. “It went _very_ well. I convinced them that the Avenger’s initiative is still a reputable cause. And it was especially helpful to have Stephen Strange back me up.”

This time, Tony dropped his fork. “What?”

“He video called in,” Peter said airily. “Talked about how much important work we all do, and how all the collateral damage was… _mostly_ not our fault.”

Tony grumbled as he picked his fork back up. “After he blew me off, yesterday?”

“Yes, but you see, he likes _me_ ,” Peter cheekily informed him. “So I called him back this morning and got him to agree. You see? Your life would be a little easier if you were nicer to people.”

“Fair enough. And _your_ life would be a little easier if you stopped being nice to people who are being assholes to you,” Tony shot back. “Seriously, kid, you need to tell Flash to back the hell off.”

“It’s not that simple,” Peter informed him.

“It _is_ that simple.”

“It’s not!” Peter insisted, now looking frustrated. “You just come in for one day. You haven’t had to deal with this for three years straight. So don’t tell me that this is somehow my fault and I just need to man up and fight back!”

“I – I didn’t mean it like that,” Tony quickly backpedaled, realizing now how bad that sounded. “I just meant that you should realize that his behavior is _not_ acceptable. But I guess it’s not up to you to do something about it.” He narrowed his eyes, spearing a potato. “ _I’ll_ do something about it. The grown-ups’ way.”

-

Peter had always assumed that Flash’s parents would be the uptight type who looked down on everyone else and were convinced that their son was perfection itself.

But as it turned out, Flash’s parents had _not_ been amused when they had been informed about their son’s behavior. They had forced Flash to apologize, which he did, red-faced. They had pulled him off the decathlon team, making that after school activity suddenly far more enjoyable for Peter. And they had threatened with even more punishment if they _ever_ heard about their son acting that way again.

“Your parents are really nice,” Peter informed Flash after the other had dropped by his locker to make the required apology. Flash looked put out but didn’t retaliate.

Peter would probably never admit it out loud, but Tony had managed to fix a few things for him, that fateful freaky Friday. And he was pretty sure that he had fixed a few things for Tony, too.

Because he happened to know that this afternoon, Tony Stark and Stephen Strange were attending a nerdy conference about the future of heart surgery. Together. As science buddies.

And if Peter hurried home, he could probably go with them.


	39. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is in the final stages of his Post-Endgame recovery. Perfect timing for a roadtrip with his three favorite kids. [Prompt by Naomietrekkie]
> 
> (tag: Post-Endgame AU where Tony lives)

Tony carefully pushes himself up from the chair and moves to the door of their enormous RV, favoring his left leg. He is still in the final stages of recovery after barely surviving his nuclear finger snap. At first, he wasn’t sure why the hell he had agreed to Pepper’s inane idea of a road trip, but now that they have been on the road for five days, he finds that he is really enjoying himself. And the company.

He pushes the door open to gaze out across the lake where they have stopped for the day. Pepper is sunbathing with her new _BFF_ May, while Harley, Peter and Morgan have apparently decided to go swimming in their clothes. All three of them are laughing as they splash each other.

Harley had said ‘yes’ to the road trip immediately. He was going into his third year of university, but had still never been on a proper vacation. One of the reasons why Tony had wanted to invite him along.

Peter, on the other hand, had not been all that eager when Tony first invited him along to this road trip. He had refused at first, but May had called Tony back a few minutes later and firmly informed him that Peter would _certainly_ be coming along. Tony had invited her too, for the hell of it. Five days into the trip, Tony still hasn’t figured out why Peter was hesitant. Peter seems to be having the time of his life. Like Harley, he has never really been on vacation, and he is certainly using this time to catch up. At the same time, Tony sometimes catches the boy intentionally distancing himself from the rest of the group without a clear explanation.

Out of the whole group here, Peter is the only one who got dusted almost six years ago, and Tony wonders if that has something to do with it.

“What’s for dinner?” Pepper asks when she spots him.

“I was going to ask Morgan.”

Pepper pushes up her sunglasses. “She’ll just say ‘hamburgers’ again.”

“Well, her wish is my command.”

“Promise me you’ll at least throw in some veggies?”

“How’s tomato ketchup?”

Peter approaches them, wading towards dry land, his shirt dripping everywhere. He carefully pads across the sharp pebbles with his bare feet. “I’m hungry,” he announces when he’s close enough.

“I still have to start dinner,” Tony informs him.

“I’ll help you?” Peter suggests, though it comes out more like a question.

“Please.”

-

Peter nibbles on a raw carrot as he slices the vegetables. He is wearing his pajamas, though his hair is still dripping.

“If you’re really hungry, have some fruit or something,” Tony suggests.

“No, I can wait,” Peter says. “It will taste better that way. I learned that back when my aunt didn’t make enough money for food.”

Tony grimaces at that casual explanation.

“Thanks for inviting her along,” Peter murmurs. “She really deserved a vacation.”

“I think you all did,” Tony replies. “And it’s helping me recover, too.”

Peter gets that strange, slightly distressed expression on his face again, that Tony has seen so many times now.

“What?” He coaxes.

“Huh? Nothing. Are there any more vegetables to cut?”

“No, if the carrots are done, we have everything.”

Peter turns to stand up. “I’ll go take a little walk, then.”

-

Morgan has crawled onto Harley’s lap while chomping on her burger. Harley is fussing over her, like he has been doing for the past five days, cutting her hamburger into smaller pieces as if Morgan is two instead of six.

“Thinking about having kids, yet, Harley?” Tony teases.

“I’m twenty one!”

“That just means you could have been married three years already.”

“You sound just like my grandmother,” Harley tells him with a smirk.

“I am getting married,” Morgan informs them casually, as she pops another piece of hamburger into her mouth.

“Are you now? To whom?”

“To Timmy,” Morgan says around a mouthful of burger.

Tony narrows his eyes. “And who is that?”

“My husband.”

May and Pepper giggle. Tony smiles too, as he leans back in his chair. This is so nice. So much better than hiding out in a lake house while the rest of the world mourned, even though a few years ago he thought that was the best he was ever going to get out of life.

A next catastrophe will come along, sooner or later. But he doesn’t care because right now, he is more relaxed than he has ever been. “Thank you all for coming on this trip,” he says, sincerely. “It means a lot to have you all here.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” May says, and Harley nods along.

Peter has that look on his face again.

-

Peter watches the sun set over the lake. This place is like something out of a fairytale. The orange glow across the water, the quiet splashing of birds catching fish, the warm breeze…

He really shouldn’t be here.

The others are playing charades inside. Peter can hear them laughing when the door of the RV opens and closes behind him.

He expects aunt May to come and sit down in the grass next to him, but it’s Tony.

“So, Underoos, why didn’t you want to come on this trip with us?” Tony asks bluntly.

Startled by the direct question, Peter glances up at him. “I wanted to come,” he protests weakly.

“You refused the first time I called. Seems like your aunt pretty much had to make you say ‘yes’.”

Peter presses his lips together as he pulls out some blades of grass. He doesn’t really know how to explain himself.

“Is it a money thing? Because you know I have to problem paying for this trip.”

Peter shakes his head. No, after Tony has already set up an entire college fund for him, the expenses of _one_ little trip are the least of his concerns.

“Is it my choice of music?” Tony asks, now sounding more like his sarcastic self. “Because you can be in charge of the radio if you want.”

Peter can’t bring himself to laugh at Tony’s jokes. So instead, he just begins to ramble. “I really wanted to go on this trip,” he says. “I really, _really_ wanted to. Because when you almost died, that was kind of scary. I had nightmares about it for weeks. And then I just kept getting this stupid feeling, like I wanted to be near you all the time so that I would know that you’re really all right, and that it’s all over. But then I got annoyed with myself because you have a _wife and daughter_ and they needed to be with you way more. And then you invite me on this _trip_ and I really want to come, but I don’t want to intrude. Because you need the family time, after everything you’ve been through.”

“You know,” Tony says, stretching out his legs. “When Rogers came to my doorstep and asked me to help him turn back time, I said no. Because I had a wife and kid, and I couldn’t risk that, you know?”

Peter nods, not really seeing where Tony is going with this.

“But in the end,” Tony continues, “I changed my mind. Because of you. Because you had disappeared. And I wanted to bring you back. That’s all I cared about. I know that sounds selfish with half the world’s population gone, but that’s all it was. You’re the only one I was willing to risk my kid for, because… _you’re_ my kid, too. So when you say you don’t want to intrude on my family… you already _are_ my family.”

Well, what else can Peter do after that except hug Tony? He wraps his arms around the man’s torso, burying his face in Tony’s sweater and feeling Tony’s strong arms pulling him closer. The hug is so full of warmth and relief that it brings tears to his eyes. “I’m really glad you didn’t die,” he whispers, his voice hoarse.

“Love you, kid,” Tony says in response, and that almost sends Peter over the edge. But he doesn’t want to start bawling like a little baby, so he takes a few deep breaths before untangling himself from the embrace and smiling up at Tony.

Tony looks out towards the lake. “Want to go for an evening swim in our clothes?”

“Let’s do it.”

And they head out to the lake together, with their bare feet across the sharp pebbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! So far I've uploaded at least once a day, but my work is actually getting pretty busy. I'm going to keep trying to upload every day, but I might miss a day here and there, just FYI. But I still see all your prompts and I write them all down!  
> Stay safe & healthy.


	40. Groceries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Decathlon team is fed up with Peter’s obvious lies, and wants to find out what is going on with him. [Prompt by gimmepizza & Burt_Macklin_FBI_49]

“Where is Peter?”

“He couldn’t be here today,” Ned informs the decathlon team. “He had to help Mr. Stark with repotting some of his plants.”

“Repotting his plants,” MJ repeats, her voice flat.

“Yeah.”

MJ shakes her head as she shuffles her stack of flashcards. “These excuses are getting more and more ridiculous. Last week he couldn’t come because he had to help Mr. Stark reorganize his bookshelves, and now this?”

“Yeah,” Sally puts in. “And we know they didn’t actually reorganize the bookshelves together, because we all saw on the news how Iron-Man was fighting that human-rhino hybrid with Spider-Man and Captain America that day!”

“He’ll be here next week,” Ned promises fervently.

-

Peter does attend their next Decathlon practice, but as soon as it is over, he quickly grabs his jacket and backpack.

“Do you wanna come with us, hang out in the park or something?” MJ asks as Peter is already moving to the door.

“Oh, uh, no thanks. I have to help Mr. Stark with some grocery shopping,” Peter quickly explains before waving a goodbye.

“Grocery shopping?” Flash repeats as soon as the door has closed behind Peter. “ _Grocery shopping?_ With Tony Stark? How stupid does he think we are?”

“All right, new mission!” Abraham declares. “C’mon, team, we’re going to figure out where Peter goes when he pretends like he is doing dumb chores for Tony Stark.”

Ned begins to protest, but his objections are quickly drowned out by the enthusiastic agreements from the rest of the team, who all grab their coats and shove their books into their bags. “Quick! Before we lose sight of him!”

Giggling, they all rush through the hallways and out the front door.

Abe points. “There he goes!”

They follow Peter, hiding behind cars or in bushes, all the while wildly speculating about Peter’s destination. “Ooh… Is he going to stop at that casino? No, no, he keeps walking.”

“We’re definitely _not_ heading to Stark tower, or he would have turned left right here.”

“I’m going to be so disappointed if he just goes home,” Flash murmurs.

Peter doesn’t go home. He stops in front of a supermarket, taking out his phone and gazing down at the screen for a moment, before disappearing inside.

“See?” Ned says, tugging at MJ’s jacket. “See? He is grocery shopping with Mr. Stark.”

“As if,” Flash huffs. “Buying him some toilet paper, more likely.”

“Maybe he got fired from the internship, didn’t want to tell us, and now is actually working here,” Abe suggests.

“Come on,” MJ commands, and she heads straight for the entrance of the supermarket. The others quickly follow her lead.

The supermarket is relatively quiet. The whole group tiptoes past the aisles, their necks craning as they look around.

“Does anyone see him?”

“He’s probably in the back, putting on his uniform,” Abe jokes.

Sally urgently grabs MJ’s arm. “I see him,” she whispers frantically. “In the vegetable aisle!”

“Follow me, team!” MJ commands. “Stay low! Hide behind those bananas!”

They huddle together in the fruit aisle as if it were a war trench, and peek across the pile of bananas at Peter. Peter is leaning against a shopping cart, yawning a little. Next to him, a man wearing a big, ugly hat peers at a shopping list, one hand resting on the shopping cart.

“Who is that?” Abe whispers.

“That,” Ned says, sounding triumphant, “is Tony Stark. In a terrible disguise.”

“Spitballs,” Tony murmurs, still peering at the tiny, paper list. “That’s all I can make of it, honestly. Spitballs.”

“Meatballs, maybe?” Peter suggests.

“No, that’s definitely an ‘s’ at the beginning. Do you see now why technology is so much better than paper and pen?”

“Bruce just has terrible handwriting,” Peter says with a shrug, “Can’t we just go grab spaghetti or something? And some cheese, and pesto. Bruce makes the best pastas…”

“SPINACH!” Tony exclaims, enthusiastically waving the note in Peter’s face. “It says spinach!”

Peter stands up a little straighter and pulls a face. “What? Ew, I don’t want to have spinach for dinner! That’s literally the most disgusting vegetable there is.”

“It’s also healthy,” Tony argues, though he doesn’t sound terribly convinced himself. “It has, um… potassium?”

Peter snorts. “That’s bananas, Tony.”

“Do you know what spinach looks like?” Tony asks, his eyes gliding past the rows of vegetables. “It is green, right?”

Peter rolls his eyes. “You’re so lucky I’m here, Mr. Billionaire.”

“Look, none of this was my idea. Pepper made me come. Is this spinach?”

“That’s a cucumber.” Peter impatiently says, before leaning in to pluck the list from Tony’s hands. “Why don’t I go find the spinach, and you go find the uh….” It stays quiet for a moment as Peter studies the list. “You know what?” He then says, “I’ll just find everything. You push the cart.”

“Teamwork!” Tony declares, grabbing the cart with both hands.

“Here’s the spinach. Now, next… Where are the dates?”

“Right here!” Ned declares, rising to his feet and pointing to a crate next to the bananas.

Peter comes to a full stop.

“Ned, what are you doing?” Sally hisses.

“My legs were starting to hurt,” Ned explains in a whiny voice.

“Our cover is blown,” MJ says gravely. “Might as well wave a white flag, team.”

They stand up, and Peter blanches when he sees four more heads pop up from behind the bananas. “What the…”

“Need some help?” Flash offers innocently.

“These your classmates?” Tony asks, looking amused.

“Did you teleport from the ground or something?” Peter asks, still looking highly confused.

“No, we were just hiding,” Ned casually informs him. “Now, what do you need?”

Peter hesitantly looks down at the list again. “Uh… We got the spinach and dates. I need red onion, almonds, chili flakes and lemon juice.”

“I’ll get the almonds!” Ned exclaims.

“I’ll do the lemon juice!”

“Chili flakes!”

The group immediately disperses in all directions and Peter is left behind, looking completely perplexed.

“I could get used to this,” Tony says.

-

Peter and Ned put the tables back in their original position before rejoining the rest of the team near the doorway. Today has been productive, and Peter is convinced that they are completely ready for the Decathlon semi-finals next week.

“Peter, want to come with us and have some ice cream?” Sally suggests. “Celebrate another successful practice round?”

Peter frowns. He really wants to go patrol today. There had been a lot of trouble on the streets yesterday, and Peter wants to make sure everything is back to normal. “No, I have to go, uh, prepare a baby shower with Mr. Stark,” he invents quickly.

His team members look skeptical, only for a second. Then, their faces clear up. “Okay, good luck!” Abe tells him, and the others nod.

Peter gives a little wave and makes sure his back is turned before he allows a grin to spread across his face.

Some people will believe _anything_ you tell them.


	41. Snowman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Rhodey finds out he has an honorary nephew [prompt by Emily & Mycorner2k19]

“Tony – you won’t believe how much snow there is, and it’s so beautiful! Come outside?”

Tony turns in his seat, his laptop almost sliding off his lap. ”Shht, kid! I can’t right now, I’m about to go live on the news.”

Peter bounds up to him, curiously glancing over his shoulder at the screen. “When?”

“In a second. Get out of my shot!” Tony warns, huffing when snowflakes fall from Peter’s hair onto his keyboard.

“Okay, okay, but will you build a snowman with me later?” Peter asks, resting his chin on Tony’s shoulder. “Pleaaaaase?”

“Yeah, okay, kid.”

“Awesome,” Peter breathes, standing upright. “What are they interviewing you about?”

“New developments in clean energy, as always.”

“Will it take long?”

Tony gives him a somewhat exasperated look. “I promise you there will be plenty of time left for snowman-building. You know, _after_ I solve the world’s impending energy crisis.”

“Okay, come outside when you’re done!” Peter tells him before rushing down the stairs.

Tony sighs and glances at his watch. Those damn news people are five minutes late already. Do they really think Tony has nothing better to do?

-

Peter is midway through building his snowman when Tony steps outside. The entire area around the compound is covered in untouched, glistening snow, and Tony is suddenly glad that Peter roped him into coming outside. It really does look quite beautiful.

“How did it go?” Peter asks as he rolls a giant ball of snow past Tony.

“It didn’t,” Tony replies. “Apparently, they were unable to get a good connection. We’re going to try again for the evening news.”

“Okay,” Peter says as he kneels next to his pile of snow to sculpt it.

“What’s the plan?” Tony asks, digging up some gloves from his pockets and putting them on.

“I’m making a snow-hulk. But don’t expect it to look good, or anything!”

“I’ll make Thor, then,” Tony suggests.

“Oh, that’s even harder,” Peter warns.

“Nah. Just stick a hammer on him and it’ll be fine.”

-

That evening, Tony is briefly interviewed by a grumpy news anchor, who doesn’t seem very interested in clean energy at all.

 _Well, why would you?_ Tony thinks. _You’ll be dead long before the world runs out of oil._

The fact that Pepper is silently gazing at him from her seat in the armchair the whole time, doesn’t help either. She always wants to be on top of his press appearances. Tony gives polite but short answers, and the whole thing is over in less than three minutes.

But if Tony thought that was the end of that, he is proven wrong about half an hour later. His laptop gives a little _ping_ as an email from Rhodey appears in his inbox. The title of the email is simply: ‘Tony, what’s THIS?’ and the actual message consists of nothing more than a link.

Tony is still trying to figure out if Rhodey has maybe been hacked somehow, and is now spamming him, when his phone starts buzzing.

He picks up. “Rhodes. What?”

“Did you see my email?”

Tony glances towards Pepper, and shrugs in response to her questioning glance. He switches his phone to his other hand so he can move his mouse. “It just arrived, what did you send me?”

“You were on the news,” Rhodey says.

“I know,” Tony replies.

“Yeah, I don’t think you _do_ , though,” Rhodey says, with a strange edge to his voice. “Do me a favor and watch the video I sent you. It’s this afternoon’s news.”

Tony frowns a little. “I wasn’t on the afternoon news, I was on the evening news.”

“Just click it.”

Tony does. Pepper stands and perches herself on the armrest of the couch to watch.

A video of a news anchor appears on his screen, but it’s not the same news anchor that Tony had spoken to earlier that evening. This is a young lady with bright red spectacles, who seems a lot cheerier than the grumpy old man that Tony had talked to.

“…sustainable energy,” she finishes with a bright smile. “We now have a live connection with Mr. Tony Stark, whose company was among the first in the world to implement these new techniques.”

Tony knows that he definitely did not talk to this lady about sustainable energy, but sure enough, as he looks on, he sees himself appear in the video in a split screen. The on-screen Tony is leaning back in his armchair, slurping his coffee.

“Mr. Stark, how important are the new developments in these hydrogen energy systems for your company?” The news anchor asks.

She gets no response from Tony, who is absently staring off into the distance.

“Mr. Stark?” She tries again.

Tony remains completely silent. A moment later, his feed is cut off.

“It seems like Mr. Stark isn’t ready for us, yet,” the news anchor says, still a picture of professionalism. “We’ll try again and see if our connection has improved. Mr. Tony Stark, are you there?”

The image of Tony Stark appears again, but this time, another voice cuts through.

“Tony – you won’t believe how much snow there is, and it’s so beautiful! Come outside?”

“Shht, kid! I can’t right now!” The onscreen-Tony barks back. “I’m about to go live on the news.”

Peter’s face appears in the shot, peering straight at the camera, his brown curls tickling Tony’s cheek. “When?”

“In a second. Get out of my shot!”

“Mr. Stark, can you hear us?” The news anchor asks, now with a slight smile on her face.

“….build a snowman with me later?” Peter pleads. “Pleaaaaaase?”

“Yeah, okay, kid.”

A wide smile breaks through on Peter’s face. “Awesome.”

The feed is cut off again and the news anchor shuffles her papers around, clearing her throat. “We appear to be unable to reach Mr. Stark at the moment. We will try again at a later time. But first: Little Tommie thought he had lost his hamster forever, but you will never guess where he found his buddy again. Now over to Bill for this amazing, heartwarming story.”

The video ends, and Tony is left gaping at a black screen. Pepper gives a muffled giggle.

“Well?” Rhodey demands.

“They replaced my story with some stupid hamster nonsense?” Tony barks out.

“Why am I not surprised that _that_ is the only problem you see here,” Rhodey drawls. “The KID, Tony! Who’s the kid?”

“Oh,” Tony says. “That’s Peter.”

“Uhuh. Now, who is Peter, and why does he get to build a snowman with you?”

“Actually, we made a snow hulk,” Tony corrects him. “And snow-Thor.”

Rhodey makes a frustrated sound. “Wrong thing to focus on, Tony! “

“Hang on,” Tony says. “Switch to videocall, I’ll introduce you.”

“Is this kid living with you, Tony?”

“Just turn on your camera - - PETER! Are you still in the kitchen?”

A muffled reply from the other room.

“I can’t hear you, but get in here!”

He hears a few thumping noises, and then Peter shuffles in, an enormous sandwich in his hands. “What?” Peter asks, blinking owlishly.

“You could feed a whole orphanage with that, is what,” Tony tells him with an eyebrow raised.

“I’m hungry.”

Tony cracks a smile at the logical excuse. “Come here, kid, I want you to meet someone.” He turns back to his phone to see that Rhodey’s face is already filling the screen.

Peter steps closer, sitting down on the couch next to Tony and peering at the screen, before his face lights up. “Oh – that’s colonel Rhodes!”

“Yes he is,” Tony says. “Also known as Honey Bear.”

“Yes, yes,” Rhodey says. “And you are?”

“I’m Peter. Nice to meet you. Did you fight any bad guys today?” Peter asks unabashedly.

“No, my day has been very ordinary, apart from almost getting a heart attack after watching the news.”

“It seems you two were on TV together,” Pepper tells Peter.

“Oh, yeah, I know,” Peter says with a smile. “Ned sent me the video. And some really funny memes. Apparently, people on the internet are finding us funny. It’s a little bit embarrassing, but I’m used to that.” He takes a big bite of his sandwich.

“Are you living at the compound, Peter?” Rhodey asks, sounding suspicious.

“Uh,” Peter says around a mouthful of food. “Sometimes? I like to hang out. Sometimes I stay the night.”

“And how…” Rhodey seems to be struggling to find the right words for a moment. “How did you meet?” He finally asks.

Tony feels it is about time to ease Rhodey’s worries. “He’s Spider-Man, Rhodey,” he explains, reaching out to squeeze Peter’s shoulder. “So he’s on the team. Sort of. Honorary member.”

Comprehension dawns on Rhodey’s face. “Oh I see… and you didn’t see fit to tell me I have an honorary nephew?”

“Well, maybe if you visited a little more…” Tony pouts.

“My god,” Pepper mutters, standing up and moving back to the armchair. “Here comes the lovers’ spat.”

“Come over next weekend!” Peter suggests, leaning closer to the screen.

Tony nods. Rhodey hasn’t been down to the compound in a while, and he now realizes that they actually do have a lot of catching up to do. “Yeah, Rhodey, drop by! I promise I won’t drop a bucket of confetti on you like I did last time.”

Rhodey looks reluctant.

Peter nods. “And if it snows, we’ll make a War Machine-snow man!”

Rhodey looks less reluctant, now. He smiles. “Sure thing, kid. I think I can find some time next week.”

“That would be lovely!” Pepper agrees from across the room.

“All right, bye-bye, Honey Bear! See you next week!” Tony waves at Rhodey until the other man disconnects.

“Now,” he then says, tapping Peter on the knee. “Show me these ‘memes’ people made about us.”


	42. The plane crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony hasn't spoken to Peter since their big ferry fight. And then his plane crashes on Coney Island.  
> [prompt by SpideyKing]
> 
> (tag: A homecoming AU)

“Tony, the plane crashed.”

-

When Tony arrives at the scene, Coney Island beach is already teeming with emergency responders. The constant flashing lights make the scene before him feel even more unreal. A long trail of debris leads up to the aircraft wreckage that lies, smoldering, in the sand.

Happy jogs up to him, looking about as overwhelmed as Tony feels.

“Where is he?” Tony asks.

“An ambulance took him.”

“A normal human ambulance?”

Happy shrugs. “He’s normal human. Just managed to build himself a pair of wings, somehow.”

“Is any of the tech missing?”

“Most things are accounted for. Whatever is not, was probably lost in the crash. But I’m putting some guys on it to make sure.”

Tony turns away from him to look at the wreckage. “How did the plane crash?”

“Don’t know. But when I got here, the cargo was stacked up over there, and the vulture guy was tied up.”

Tony doesn’t know very many people who would want to do him an anonymous favor like that. Could it be possible that the rogue Avengers are back in town, and trying to prevent crime while staying under the radar? To his expert eye, this particular incident has Steve Rogers written all over it. He has a thing for crashing planes. “Is Captain America’s shield accounted for?”

Happy drops his eyes down to a list in his hands. “Yes.”

“Hm.”

“You think he’s behind this?”

“Who knows.”

-

Tony is caught up in a staring contest. His current competitor: the cell phone that Steve sent him a few months ago. It’s just lying on top of his desk, acting all innocent. _If you need me, I’ll be there_. Well, Tony _doesn’t_ need Steve, thankyouverymuch, but if he’s back in New York, then Tony damn well wants to know about it.

Happy leans into the room. “Toomes woke up. He’s refusing to say anything about how the plane crashed, though.”

“What does he have to gain from that?”

Happy shrugs, stepping inside. “Maybe he was just dumb enough to crash it himself.”

“And neatly stack up my cargo and tie himself up?”

“Yeah, no,” Happy says as he sits down. “Forget what I said.”

Tony makes a frustrated noise. He feels restless, useless. Now that the Avengers initiative has fallen apart, there doesn’t seem to be much reason for him to be working on new technology for any of them. And his Peter Parker Project has fallen through, too. There haven’t been any Spider-Man sightings for more than a week now. “Have you heard anything from Mr. Parker lately, by any chance?” Tony asks, glancing up at Happy.

“Oh, yeah,” Happy says, his eyes narrowing a little as if he only just remembered. “I was called by some friend of his. He referred to himself as Peter’s ‘associate’. Can you tell the kid not to start giving my number out to his friends? He’s enough to deal with on his own.”

“What did he want?”

“I don’t know, I hung up,” Happy mutters dismissively.

“And you haven’t heard from him since?”

“No. I mean – is he _supposed_ to call me? I thought that sort of came hand in hand with the suit.”

“I don’t know,” Tony mutters, rubbing his forehead. “I didn’t think very far ahead, as usual. I’m not sure where we go from here. I’m worried. There haven’t been any Spider-Man sightings this week, and it’s not like him to give up on it all together. Can you check up on him?”

“And talk about what? Why don’t you call him yourself,” Happy suggests. “Might actually mean something to the kid to know that you _do_ give a crap about him.”

Tony really doesn’t think that’s necessary. “Never mind, forget it.”

-

He calls Steve a few days later, because he can’t take it anymore.

“Hey Tony,” Steve says, his voice sounding warm.

“Was it you?” Tony asks sharply.

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb, Rogers. The plane crash, was it you?”

“I heard about that,” Steve says. “But I’m not even in the US at the moment, Tony-“

“Okay then, that’s all I needed to know. Bye.”

“Tony, hang on!” Steve calls out.

But Tony disconnects the call and throws the cell phone down to the table, his heart hammering in his chest.

-

“What do you know,” Happy says, looking down at the buzzing phone in his hand. “Peter is calling me.”

“Give me that!” Tony barks out, snatching up the phone and picking up. “Hello?”

“Happy?” Peter’s voice sounds small.

“It’s Tony. Uh…” Tony’s mind draws a blank. “How – how are you?”

“Mr. Stark – I don’t feel so good.”

Tony sits up a little straighter. “What’s going on?”

“Ever since the plane crash, I keep getting this dizzy, lightheaded feeling and it’s not going away. I can’t even swing straight anymore. I just woke up and noticed it got even worse.”

“Plane crash? What plane crash?”

“The plane crash on Coney Island. I mean – you found the plane, right? How can you not have, it was all over the news.”

Tony grips the edge of his desk. “ _You_ crashed that plane?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you read my note?”

“THERE WAS NO NOTE, PARKER!” Tony yells.

“Oh,” Peter says in a small voice. “I was wondering why no one got back to me about that. I’m really sorry about your plane. But I really don’t feel so good. And I can’t tell my aunt, because she’ll want me to go to the hospital, and then I’ll have to tell her that I can’t, and then I’ll have to explain that I’m Spider-Man and I don’t want her to find out. I don’t know what to do, and I know you’re mad, but can you please just help me this once?”

-

Tony gets Peter into his medic bay within the hour. The kid keeps apologizing profusely, and Tony keeps waving the apologies away. He knows they will need to have a good, long talk about all this later, but right now he has other priorities. He has no idea what is happening with the kid. But his blood tests don’t look good and the symptoms are worrying. Dr. Cho apologetically tells him she has no idea how to deal with this.

Tony knows only one person who might be able to fix this.

He calls Steve again. “Is Romanoff with you?”

“Yes, she is here,” Steve says, sounding a bit more wary than last time.

“Has she been in touch with Bruce at all?”

A sigh at the other end of the line. “Tony, none of us know what happened to Bruce.”

“Really? You better not be fucking lying to me _this_ time, Rogers.”

“What’s going on?”

“Spider-Man. His radioactive blood is messed up, and his own healing isn’t doing the trick. I can’t take him to a hospital. And I can’t fix it. Dr. Cho can’t fix it. I need Bruce, Steve, I _need_ him!”

“All right, Tony,” Steve says, and Tony hates how calm he sounds. “Bring him to Wakanda.”

“What?”

“To Wakanda. They have the best doctors in the world. Bring him here.”

“…. How?” Is all Tony can think to say.

“Hang on,” Steve says, and the line stays quiet for a few seconds, before Steve’s voice returns: “They can have him collected.”

“I’m not letting him go there alone,” Tony warns.

“No, I didn’t expect you to.”

-

Peter slowly, groggily, pulls his eyes open. He is lying in bed in a round room with marble pillars and orange tinted walls. He can see endless treetops through the large windows, and a yellow, setting sun. And Captain freaking America is just casually sitting at his bedside, reading a book.

The lady on the plane gave him an injection that knocked him right out. Peter wonders how long he has been asleep. It could be an hour, it could be a week. It had better not be a week, though, because his aunt will have freaked out.

He licks his dry lips and manages a hoarse “hey.”

Steve looks up from his book, then smiles. “Evening, Queens.”

“You’re Captain America.”

Steve nods. “I know.”

Peter feels himself blush. “Sorry.”

Steve lays the book aside and leans in, planting one elbow on Peter’s mattress. “How are you feeling?”

“Uh, normal,” Peter said. “Did they fix me already?”

Steve gives a nod.

“Good,” Peter says, relieved. “What day is it?”

“You arrived this afternoon. It is now early evening, which means it is still mid afternoon in New York.”

“Woah,” Peter breathes. “That was so fast.”

A door slides open and Tony enters with a young lady in his wake. She looks delighted at seeing Peter awake. “Look who is all better!”

Peter carefully sits up, relieved when his head doesn’t start spinning. “Are you sure I’m all better?”

She tugs at his blanket. “Of course,” she says with a superior sort of smirk. “You probably received an electric shock while crashing that airplane into the ground. The electron flow caused oxygen and hydrogen bubbles to form in your blood, which caused neurological complications. You merely needed a little hyperbaric oxygen therapy. I will instruct Dr. Cho on the practice in case it happens again.”

“Did _you_ fix me?” Peter asks.

“No,” she replies with a cheeky smile. “I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

“Oh,” Peter says, turning his eyes on Tony, who is still standing by his bedside rather stiffly. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

Tony huffs impatiently, and Peter flinches a little. “Sorry,” he repeats.

“If you apologize one more time, I think I will start screaming,” Tony warns him.

“Uh…” Peter says, not sure how to respond to that. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t seem like a good option.

“Don’t worry,” Steve tells him. “This is how Tony expresses himself to people he cares about.”

“Are you two friends again?” Peter asks, his face lighting up.

“No,” Tony stubbornly insists, defensively folding his arms across his chest.

“I will leave you to talk things over,” the young lady says.

“Thank you, Shuri,” Steve tells her.

Once she has left, Tony starts pacing the room. “All right, Underoos,” he says and, in spite of his nerves, Peter feels a little warm at hearing the nickname again. “Two things. Number one, I suppose I’ll be giving you the suit back. At least that way I can keep a constant tab on your health. That does _not_ mean I’m giving you carte blanche to go gallivanting around with alien arms dealers or hijack planes.”

“I don’t need it back,” Peter says, fiddling with the blanket. “I already know I’m Spider-Man, whether I have the suit or not.”

“Yes, that much is clear,” Tony sighs. “Just wear it. For me. Please?”

“Okay,” Peter murmurs, smiling slightly. “If it makes _you_ feel better, then-“

“Number two,” Tony interrupts, still pacing the room. “You will tell your aunt that you are Spider-Man.”

“What? No!”

“Yes you will, because I can’t do this shit alone. I can’t be watching you all the time. I need another adult on my side who will keep you from getting yourself killed. If you die, it’s on me, remember?”

“Not anymore,” Peter protests. “Isn’t that why you took the suit?”

“I didn’t want you to have the suit, because I felt that giving you the suit made me responsible for your wellbeing. And I didn’t want to be responsible for an enhanced teenager. But taking the suit clearly didn’t actually change anything. I still care about you no matter what, apparently, so it’s too late to back out.”

“Thanks… I guess…” Peter says hesitantly.

Steve smiles.

-

Tony helps Peter into his seat on the airplane, which is a little bit ridiculous. “Mr. Stark, I’m fine. I feel completely normal,” Peter assures him.

“Put on your seatbelt,” is Tony’s only response.

Peter frankly thinks Tony’s dad-like behavior is beginning to get out of hand.

Tony disappears, and Peter turns in his seat to peek towards the cargo doors, where Steve is waiting.

“Thank you,” he hears Tony say, begrudgingly, but still sincere.

Steve nods. “If you ever need me again, call me.”

Tony returns to his seat next to Peter and waits until the cargo door has shut completely.

“I couldn’t really say this in front of Mr. Responsible Rogers, but good job on hijacking that plane,” He then tells Peter.

Peter lets out a chuckle. _There’s_ the Tony Stark he knows.

-

It’s not every day that May Parker comes home to find Tony Stark sitting on her couch, and a fully suited-up Spider-Man in an armchair.

“Oh, Mr. Tony Stark. Uh – did Peter let you in?” She asks, somewhat suspicious.

Spider-Man lifts his head and pulls the mask away. “It’s me, May, I’m… I’m Spider-Man.”

May’s mouth drops open. “What the fu-!“


	43. Meanwhile...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's life has many possible outcomes... but one clear constant. [prompt by Chiyanpurana]

_Meanwhile, on Earth-1464_

Somewhere to his left, aunt May is quietly talking Natasha, as per usual. Spider-ladies stick together.

To his right, Tony is frantically scribbling out numbers, as if he is trying to prove that he can calculate faster than the computer in front of them.

“Need some help?” Peter asks, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

“14… 28… 57…” Tony murmurs. “Yes, hand me a calculator.”

Peter chuckles a little. “ _Why_ are you doing those calculations yourself?”

“I’m proving a point.”

“To whom?”

“I’m not really sure, but I’m winning. Seven, one, four, two, eight, five… YES!”

“You made a mistake,” Peter says, pointing.

“Damnit.”

May and Natasha approach and Natasha leans on the table, trying to get some eye contact with Tony. “Stark, we’ve decided on a few possible strategies that we need to run by you.”

“Not now,” Tony says, waving in their general direction. “I’m having fun with the kid.”

Peter shrugs at his aunt, who looks exasperated.

“Peter should be heading home,” May tries. “He has homework.”

“What? No! He’s helping me with my calculations!”

“ _You’re_ supposed to be helping _us_ to track down Sandman,” May says, planting her hands on her hips. “What do you expect me to do about him?”

“I don’t know, you’re the Spider-Woman. I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Tony says, gathering up his papers. “I have complete faith in you! C’mon, Pete, to the lab!” And he rushes to the door.

“Honestly,” May murmurs, squeezing Peter’s shoulder, “there are times that I wish I’d never chaperoned your stupid school trip.”

-

_Meanwhile, on Earth-99256_

“Are they taking the bait on your side?”

“Not really,” Peter says, his head leaning in his hand as he stares down at the water, his fishing rod held loosely in his hand.

“The fish are being assholes today,” Tony complains. “This is supposed to be my relaxing day off.”

“It might be more relaxing if you stopped complaining all the time.”

Tony huffs. “What do you know, with you cushy college life. _You_ try running a company _and_ being everyone’s number one super-hero.”

Peter turns to him, rocking the tiny boat they are sitting in. “Okay, first off, you’re not running shit. We both know Pepper does all the work. Second off, I’m sure there’s plenty of people who prefer other super-heroes over you. In fact, you might not even make their top ten.”

“As if. Maybe there’s some goody two-shoes out there who like Captain America.”

“Or Spider-Man,” Peter adds.

Tony grumbles. “That guy is doing my head in.”

“Really? Why?”

“Ten years! _Ten years_ this guy has been running around the city, making a fool of me.”

“He’s not making a fool of you,” Peter argues. “You’re just making a fool of yourself by constantly trying to catch him. I’ve told you a million times, if you’d just stop trying to chase him down, you’d also stop looking so stupid for failing every time.”

“One day,” Tony says. He gives up on the fishing, and just lies back in the tiny boat to enjoy the autumn sun. “One day…”

Peter merely smiles.

-

_Meanwhile, on Earth-3_

“You’re quite young,” Tony remarks.

Peter glances at him across the rim of his glasses and smiles. “I suppose.”

“I’ve never done a job interview with someone this young.”

“Have you ever done a job interview at all?” Peter asks critically, his eyes flashing for a moment to Tony’s feet that are propped up on the desk.

“Got me there. Let’s not pretend this some sort of ‘first impression’. You’ve heard of me, I assume.”

“I have,” Peter says. “Billionaire who sold his entire company after surviving a kidnapping.”

“That’s the gist of it, yeah.”

“And you are here, why?”

Tony waves a hand around. “I like your work. I mean, who wouldn’t? Saving children’s lives and all that stuff.”

Peter leans back in his chair, squinting at Tony Stark for a while. “All my colleagues said I’m insane for even agreeing to meet with you. They think you had a nervous break-down.”

“What do _you_ think?”

“I think you were _always_ this crazy.”

Tony chuckles. “Look, kid – I mean, mister Parker, sir, boss – you know what I have to offer, you know my skills. I really want to use those skills for something better than designing chemical weapons from now on. I found your website, and I just feel like this is the place for me.”

Peter nods, before reaching out his hand. “Welcome to Parker Inc.”

-

_Meanwhile, on Earth-10000_

“Hey, you, random kid! Want to be my intern?”

Peter gapes at the famous Tony Stark, leader of Stark industries, who just randomly sauntered up to his table. “Excu- excuse me?”

“Yeah, an intern. I need interns. Stat.”

“And… you’re just asking a random kid in the coffee house? Why me?”

Stark shrugs. “You look the part. Let’s say it was meant to be. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Uh,” Peter says. “Homework?”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

-

“Pete? Pete? That’s it, buddy, open your eyes. Now, sit up – not too fast.”

Strong arms pull Peter into a seated position and Peter notices he had been lying flat on his back on the marble floor. Tony is to his right, peering into his eyes. The other Avengers are hovering around him, all looking worried. And he notices Dr. Strange kneeling on his other side.

“He looks fine,” Tony murmured.

“Are you feeling light headed at all?” Stephen Strange asks gently. “Getting caught in the blast of the mind stone can do strange things to you.”

“How… how long was I out?” Peter murmurs.

“You weren’t ‘out’,” Tony says, his brow wrinkling. “You just got knocked to the floor. That blast came right at you. Christ, that gave me a heart attack.”

“Really?” Peter says, slowly rubbing his forehead. “Because I feel like I just woke up from a long dream.”

“What kind of dream?” Strange questions sharply.

Peter drops his hand to the floor as the vague memories slowly turn into sharper images. “I think I just peeked into about a hundred alternate universes.”

“Was I awesome in all of them?” Tony immediately enquires, with quite a serious expression.

“Well, you were definitely _there_ in all of them,” Peter says with a smile. “I suppose it’s meant to be. This was really cool!”

Tony huffs. “For you, maybe. That just cost me ten years of my life.”

The other Avengers murmur in agreement. The relief is palpable.

But Peter, though… he doesn’t even hear them. He just turns to Tony with an eager expression on his face. “Let’s do that again!”


	44. Tony Stark and son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had started as an innocent joke. And now the whole world thinks Tony has a son. [prompt by outerxbabylon]

Tony restlessly drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. He was parked behind the school, for the third time this week, because paparazzi photographers were still watching the school’s entrance like a bunch of fat, greedy hawks.

As far as Tony understood, it had started as an innocent joke by Peter’s classmates. Some dumb Facebook post with a picture of Peter building something in art class, with the caption ‘ _Peter just making a little fathers day present for Tony Stark_ ’ _._ Terribly amusing. Until the thing had gone viral and local media reporters suddenly flocked to the school, trying to figure out why they had never realized that Tony Stark had a teenage son.

Tony had already released about twenty official statements explaining that Peter was _not_ his son and the whole thing had been a joke. Not even a funny joke. But the more he tried to explain the whole thing, the more people didn’t believe him. People are that way. So he had just stopped explaining himself, and had instead started helping Peter to evade the paparazzi.

He sat up a little straighter when a backdoor opened and Peter stepped out, casually strolling up to Tony’s car, swinging his gym sneakers back and forth by their laces. He looked far more relaxed than Tony felt.

“Hey kid,” he said when Peter stepped into the front seat. “All good?”

“Yeah,” Peter said, chucking his sneakers to the floor. “Just the one journalist who tried to sneak into my class today. Principal kicked him out. Literally.”

“It will get better,” Tony promised.

-

It did get better, but it also didn’t. The hype passed, and paparazzi stopped lurking outside Peter’s high school. But at the same time, all the media seemed to have simply accepted the rumors as fact, casually referring to Peter as ‘Tony Stark’s son’ whenever they made an appearance together.

Last night, for instance, Peter had assisted Tony with setting up a Stark Industries Press Conference. And now, Tony was staring at a picture in their local newspaper. A picture of himself and Pepper behind a long table, and Peter standing off to the side, almost invisible. But the caption was still: “Tony Stark with wife and son.”

“Look at this,” he told Pepper when she entered the room, and he handed her the paper. “Look at that picture!”

Pepper eyed the picture, then huffed. “Oh, sure. ‘Tony Stark and wife’. Because the woman doesn’t count as an actual person, does she?”

“Yes, yes,” Tony quickly said. “That’s exactly what I was thinking, too.”

She smiled and sat, leaning down to take off her heels. “Still upset over the ‘son’ thing? Surely they have published far worse things about you?”

“I’m not worried for _me_ ,” Tony said. “I just don’t want Peter to have to deal with all this.”

“Has he given you the impression that it bothers him a lot?”

“Not in so many words. But how can it not?”

Pepper lifted her eyebrows as she stretched out her legs and wiggled her toes around. “Explain.”

“He doesn’t like attention. And I don’t want this whole thing to put pressure on… whatever our relationship is.”

“Surely you already feel like you are essentially a father figure to him?”

“I do,” Tony admitted. “But I don’t want to… point it out. I don’t want to jinx it. The kid already lost two father figures in his life, and I don’t think that he’d like to think of me in that way.”

“Why don’t you stop thinking _for_ Peter and ask him how he feels about it?” Pepper suggested.

“Excuse me, I just want to make sure: You are suggesting that I sit him down and have a conversation about our _feelings_ , correct?”

“That’s what dads do,” Pepper teased.

Tony gave a frustrated groan, running a hand through his hair. Yeah, sure, he cared about Peter. And he wanted to keep him safe and all that sentimental, mushy stuff. If that made him a father figure, then maybe he was one. But no one needed to know about that. Least of all Peter. It wasn’t as if Tony would make a _good_ father figure, either way.

“You know, I have a better idea,” he told Pepper. “I think I’ll just stick to my usual strategy of pretending the problem doesn’t exist, pushing my emotions away, and wait for it to blow over.”

-

That strategy worked for Tony for about sixteen and a half hours, until the moment when Peter stepped into his workshop, carrying a box wrapped in red and gold paper.

“Hey, kid. How was school?”

“It’s Sunday, Tony,” Peter reminded him, setting the box down on Tony’s desk.

“Right. Is that for me?”

Peter gave a single nod. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I guess that ship sailed.”

Tony glanced down at the present and back up at Peter. His confusion must have been clear on his face, because Peter gave an incredulous laugh. “It was literally _all_ over internet, how can this be unexpected to you?”

“What?”

“Father’s day, Tony. You know, the present I made you?”

“Wait, really?” Tony set his tools down and moved closer to the desk. “I figured your classmates made that part up.”

“Ah. Well, no. I made the mistake of telling them the truth,” Peter said, a smile spreading across his face. “So I guess this _is_ a surprise then?”

Tony could only nod.

“I don’t want to make things weird,” Peter said, sensing that Tony was a little lost for words. “Just… who else would I give a present to on this day? I just wanted to let you know I appreciate everything you do for me. This seemed like a good occasion.”

Tony didn’t know what to say so instead, he carefully pulled the wrapping paper away to reveal a wooden assortment box. The plastic window in the lid showed that it was filled with screws.

“I’ve made it so it plays AC/DC whenever you open the lid,” Peter explained with a grin.

Tony immediately opened the box, and ‘shoot to thrill’ blasted from a tiny, built-in speaker at full volume, making all the screws vibrate in their compartments.

Tony snapped the lid shut, chuckling. “Nice job, kid.”

“You like it?”

“Of course I do. Thank you. So…” He swallows. “So I guess the whole ‘people thinking I’m your dad’ thing didn’t make you freak out?”

“No,” Peter said, narrowing his yes. “Why, did _you_ freak out?”

“Of course not.”

-

Tony shuffled into the living room, firmly clutching his present against his chest, feeling ready to have a good cry.

Pepper took a single look at him and was immediately worried. “Honey, are you okay?” She asked, stepping closer and putting a hand on his arm.

“Peter made me a father’s day present,” Tony said, aware that he was actually welling up, now.

“Uhuh,” Pepper said, meeting his gaze. “How are you doing on the whole ‘pushing your emotions away’, then?”

“Swell. Just swell,” Tony said. “Pep... When is son’s day?”


	45. Student life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has just turned 19 while away at MIT, and he misses home. [prompt by Bookworm]

“Are you still in bed?” Harley asked as he marched into the dorm room and pulled the curtains open, bathing the room in sunlight.

Peter grumbled in protest, turning over in bed and pulling the blankets up higher to shield himself from the light.

Harley looked down on him with an amused grin, before poking Peter through the blankets. “Dude, how drunk did you get last night?”

“Can’t get drunk,” was the murmured response from somewhere below the blanket.

“What?”

Peter lifted the blanket a little so he was at least audible. “Can’t get drunk. It’s a medical thing.”

“And you tell me this _now_? After we’ve been shacking up for almost two months?”

“Sorry,” Peter muttered. “Didn’t realize this was vital information for you.”

Harley shook his head as he moved to his desk, picking up the pile of laundry he had placed on top of his books and throwing it onto his bed. “So what’s up, then? Feeling ill? Got turned down by a girl?”

Peter turned over so he was facing Harley. “Don’t know. Just feeling a little down, I guess.”

“Still? Did you start on that paper we have due tomorrow?”

“Finished it.”

“Can I read?”

Peter eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”

“I need it to inspire me.”

“Inspire you, or just give you all the answers?”

Harley chucked a book at him, which Peter threw right back at him. He kicked the blankets away and slowly sat up, lifting a hand to flatten his hair. He didn’t have a lecture until 4 PM today, and it was harder than usual to get out of bed.

Maybe this was just how nineteen-year-olds felt all the time.

Or maybe it had something to do with the video message Tony, Pepper and Morgan had sent him last night. Peter had been in the middle of his own birthday celebration with at least thirty of his fellow students, when he had felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He couldn’t hear everything that was being said in the video. And so he had escaped his own birthday party and returned to his dorm room, and watched the video message about twenty times, feeling strangely nostalgic. After that, he had been too glum to go back to the party.

Judging by Harley’s reaction, no one had even noticed that he slipped out early. “When did you get back here?” He asked as he stood from the bed, stretching.

“I didn’t,” Harley admitted with a crooked grin. “I _may_ have spent the night somewhere else. Wanna go out for lunch?”

Peter shrugged. He still didn’t feel like doing anything at all.

“Is this still about you being homesick? You were moping around all day yesterday.”

“I’m not homesick,” Peter objected. “I just… I don’t know, it’s my birthday. You’re supposed to be with family and all that.”

“Go shower,” Harley told him. “And then come have lunch with me. Or breakfast, in your case.”

Peter disappeared into the bathroom, but stuck his head around the door a few seconds later. “Harley – why is there a bunch of frying pans in our shower?”

“Oh, right,” Harley said. “I just thought I’d rinse them a little. Kick them into the corner or something.”

“All right…”

-

Peter broodily stared into his coffee cup.

“C’mon,” Harley said. “After next week it’s spring break. You’ll go home then, right?”

“Yeah…” Peter said unhappily. Spring break still seemed like a long time away.

He took another gulp of his coffee, before sighing. “I think I might skip today’s lecture.” Professor Somchai always gave the most boring lectures.

“What? No you can’t!” Harley immediately protested. Which was sort of unlike him, because usually _he_ was the one who suggested skipping lectures.

“Why not? It’s on the principles of groundwater flow! I’m not even interested in hydrology.”

“Don’t skip, though,” Harley insisted. “You can’t abandon me.”

“So skip it, too. We’ll go swimming or something,” Peter suggested.

“No, I’m going,” Harley said. “Please come with me? We’ll sit in the back row and just google funny memes if it gets too unbearable."

“Ugh. Fine.”

-

Harley and Peter shuffled towards the back row of the lecture hall, both opening their laptops. Normally, Professor Somchai would be at work already, chalking endless theorems and calculations onto the giant blackboard. He was the only professor who still seemed to be using it. Today, however, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Do you think he’s sick?” Peter murmured, aware of how hopeful he sounded.

Harley merely chuckled as he leaned back in his seat.

Professor Somchai wasn’t sick, though. He entered the room a few minutes later, but didn’t turn to the blackboard. Instead, he stepped up to the microphone and cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special guest lecturer making a surprise appearance. He will be talking to you about energy conversion technologies. Our lecture on groundwater flow will be postponed to next week. Please welcome Mr. Tony Stark.”

Peter’s mouth dropped open. Tony stepped into the room with a wide smirk, as Peter’s fellow students clapped excitedly.

Peter took one look at Harley’s knowing, amused smile. “You knew!”

Harley gave an innocent shrug.

“Afternoon, all,” Tony said. “I’m honored to be speaking to our nation’s brightest young men and women. I’ll get into the latest news on energy technology in a second. But first: Someone told me that one of our students just turned nineteen last night, so let’s all sing happy birthday, yeah? _HAPPY BIRTHDAY-_ “

Peter, flushing a deep red, slouched in his chair so he was almost invisible behind the seat in front of him.

-

After the lecture finished, other students crowded around Tony to ask him more questions. Peter looked on from his seat in the far back, somewhat unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to go down and hug Tony in front of all these people. But it looked like Tony wouldn’t be getting rid of all these students any time soon.

“Just hang on,” Harley said, as if he had read Peter’s mind. “He’ll come up here. Here – check out this video.”

Peter glanced at Harley’s screen, chuckling along at some unfortunate kid who accidentally hit himself in the head with a tennis racket.

After a few minutes, Tony detached himself from the group of students and ascended the steps towards Peter’s row. Peter stood up from his chair with a wide smile. Tony outstretched his arms and pulled Peter into a hug. “Happy birthday, again, Underoos,” he murmured into Peter’s ear.

“I missed you,” Peter admitted.

“So I heard.”

“I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Well, a little birdy told me you were sulking all day yesterday,” Tony said, flashing a smile at Harley.

“I wasn’t!” Peter protested indignantly.

“It’s all right,” Tony said, patting him on the head. “It was nice to have an excuse to come out here.”

“Are you staying a little while?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I’ll leave after dinner.”

“Awesome,” Peter happily said. “What do you want to do?”

“How about you show me your dorm room, first?”

“Um,” Peter said, exchanging a nervous look with Harvey, thinking of the piles of laundry, empty beer bottles and dirty dishes cluttering up their room. “Maybe just go to the park?”

Tony gave him a knowing look. “Well, sure. As long as you’re not secretly growing cannabis on your balcony.”

“Of course not!” Peter immediately assured him.

“We might be growing some fungus, though,” Harley said.


	46. Accords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So… this one is a little different. AU where Peter Parker & Bucky Barnes have wings. Civil-war AU, a little dystopian, open-ended.   
> Ross wants to sign the Sokovian Accords, but Steve has his doubts. [prompt by LunaStarTheCat]

Steve was usually an authority-loving man, who understood the importance of cooperation, team work, and leadership, and who was willing to trust and support his government.

But there was something about Thaddeus Ross that brought out all of his stubbornness.

And today’s speech was giving him a particularly unpleasant feeling in his gut. Ross had been orating about the entire Avengers history for almost half an hour, without getting to the point. Steve knew from experience that this was a bad sign.

“Governments worldwide are facing new threats every day,” Ross said as he slowly paced the room. “Aliens landing in New York. Winged people starting trouble in south American states. The army has no means to fight these threats. Meanwhile the Avengers, the only people who _could_ do something about it, are too busy building their own human-killing robot, and then destroying an entire city in their attempt to stop it.”

“Just because the last Alien landing on earth was hostile, doesn’t mean we should fear _all_ alien contact,” Steve argued. “And just because there are riots in the south, doesn’t mean we should assume that all winged enhanced are a danger to our society.”

“The Avenger’s perspective on the winged community has been made clear to me on many occasions, thank you,” Ross bit out. “But it’s not your job to judge potential threats. Your only job is to act on them. For example, to bring in our own little winged vigilante who has been wreaking havoc in New-York in his red and blue onesie for _months_ now.”

“We’re on it,” Tony assured him. “There have been no sightings since that building collapsed on top of him last week. If he didn’t die then, we’ll get him soon enough.”

Several Avengers nodded in confirmation.

Ross narrowed his eyes. “So I can count on you to bring him in?”

“Of course.”

“And what about Captain’s America’s winged buddy, who is still completely off our radar,” Ross carried on, turning to leer at Steve. “He was responsible for several deaths in D.C. last year. And yet you still argue that the winged community are not a problem to our nation’s safety?”

“He was brainwashed,” Steve said through clenched teeth. He wasn’t about to tell Ross that Tony had already traced down Bucky’s current living address several weeks ago. Apparently, his old friend was laying low in Bucharest. So far, the Avengers hadn’t been sure what to do with that information.

Ross nodded at his assistant standing next to him. “The governments of the world can no longer stand by and watch their country slip into lawlessness. But I believe we have found a solution.”

A thick file, the size of a hefty book, was placed on the table in front of them. And Steve knew that this was going to be a problem.

-

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional medal of honor, Wilson. How many medals do you have, again? One from your high school swim team?”

“At least my swim team knows what to do when they get into some hot water!”

As they ascended the stairs towards the compound, Steve tried to drown out the endless bickering. He noticed that Tony was quiet as well, which was unusual for him.

“A hundred and seventy seven countries worked on this accord, Sam!” Rhodey continued, frustration clear in his voice.

“Yeah, and all those governments are completely out of touch with reality. We’re only a step away from people starting to execute aliens and winged enhanced on sight. And meanwhile we’re supposed to be going after a winged _kid_ in New York?”

The front door slid open and the group stepped into the entrance hall, coming to a full stop at the sight before them.

“Hi!” Peter said, brightly. He was standing in the middle of the entrance hall, leaning on a wooden cane. His black, leathery wings unfolded a little, like they always did when Peter smiled.

“Peter,” Steve chided with a small frown. “You’re not supposed to be walking around. That leg is still healing.”

Peter looked down at his leg, then shrugged. “I just wanted to see if I could. I’m being careful.” He grinned. “I figured, if it starts hurting, I’d just butterfly back to the couch.”

“You’d make one ugly ass butterfly,” Sam informed him.

“Rude!”

-

Peter had clawed his own way out from under the collapsed building after that fateful accident. He had set to work to clear the rubble away, hoping to find more people. Until emergency responders arrived, and he had been forced to leave.

Peter was still bitter about it. “Maybe I could have saved someone,” he had said. “All they managed to do was find dead bodies. I was so sure I still heard a heartbeat…”

Steve was glad, though, that Peter had fled the scene when he did. With the current political climate, the kid would probably be blamed for the explosion and put behind bars.

Peter’s left leg had been fractured in three places. His knee had been shattered. It was healing, but not as easily as his previous injuries.

“I should have just knocked those policemen out,” Peter had muttered. “Knocked them all out and kept digging. I can take a bunch of cops, no problem.”

“That wouldn’t exactly have helped the winged reputation,” Steve had pointed out. “And I’d be pretty pissed off at you, with everything I’m doing to try and improve that situation.”

“People _died_ , Steve.”

Steve hadn’t responded to that.

-

“You’re not actually reading it, are you?” Sam huffed.

“Hm?” Peter asked, absentmindedly as he flipped through the accords. “Just skimming it.”

“You sure know how to have a good time.”

Peter lowered the book, throwing Sam a sharp look. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been essentially confined to this couch for over a week due to your paranoia. So excuse me if I find strange ways to amuse myself.”

“Kid, it’s not paranoia if it’s facts,” Sam pointed out. “You’re on wanted lists. Ross expects us to hand you over to him a.s.a.p., and then – what was it? – fly to the south to shoot at everything that has wings?”

“It hasn’t come to that,” Rhodey rebuked.

“ _Yet_.”

“You need to sign this, though,” Peter said, lowering the document.

The room was stunned into silence.

“Are you sure about that?” Tony then asked. “Did you read article 184 subsection b which stipulates that possible threats include but are not limited to-“

“-not limited to alien life, winged enhanced and Artificial Intelligence, yes,” Peter interrupted. “But the alternative is that they force all of you to retire and then create their own little taskforce. And if I’d have to chose between fighting some government army or you guys – I’ll chose you guys.”

Tony huffed. “Well, yeah. Because we’re on your side.”

“Exactly,” Peter said. “And you can’t be on my side if you sideline yourself.”

Steve frowned. “So you want us to chose the easy way?”

Peter lifted the accords a little. “ _This_ isn’t easy. This is going to require some pretty damn complicated navigating from you guys. But if you _are_ on my side, you’ll find a way to do it.”

Another silence filled the room.

“The accords are to be ratified tomorrow,” Tony then said. “We’ll be flying out to attend. There’s plenty of room on the plane, still.”

Chris exhaled, closing his eyes. “I’ll sign the accords,” he promised quietly. “But I’m not coming to the UN with you.”

“What am I supposed to tell them, you had better things to do?”

Steve opened his eyes again and tugged at a strand of Peter’s hair. “Tell them I’m taking care of a friend.”

-

Sam stepped into the room, his face tight. “Steve. You’re going to want to see this. FRIDAY, turn on the news.”

Steve and Peter looked up from their boardgame and fell silent at the sight of news footage of flashing sirens and billowing smoke pillars.

“Bombing at the UN.”

“Are any of our people-“

“A few casualties. Our people are safe,” Sam said. “The problem is _that_.”

And he pointed, at the exact moment when a blurry photo of Bucky Barnes appeared on screen, along with the warning ‘ _dangerous winged enhanced individual_ ’.

“He didn’t do it,” Steve immediately insisted, slowly rising to his feet. “He couldn’t have. Tony’s data shows he was still in Romania this morning.”

“Uhuh. You wanna tell Ross about those data, see if he’ll take it well?”

Steve set his jaw. “I have to talk to him. Get him somewhere safe. We need to get there, fast. Will you come with me?”

“No,” Peter said, before Sam could respond.

Steve turned to look at Peter, whose lips were pressed into a thin, stubborn line.

“You need to stay here,” Peter said. “Both of you. Tony needs you. He might not admit it, but he does. The Avengers need to stay together.”

“I can’t let them get to Bucky, they might kill him,” Steve calmly pointed out.

“I know. Let me talk to him,” Peter said, just as calmly.

“What?”

“He might trust me more than you. Friendly reminder: he has tried to kill you several times. And we’re… you know… the same.”

“And then, what?” Steve asked, crossing his arms. “You’re going to protect him from the armed forces? _You?_ ”

“I’ll get him to fly back here. Together,” Peter said. “I can get him to listen, I really think I do. But if the worst comes to the worst, I assure you that I can handle a bunch of gunmen, too.”

“If you fight the police, it’ll only make things worse. It’ll only make them mistrust you.”

“I’m not having this discussion again. We’re wasting time,” Peter firmly said, before pushing himself up from the couch.

“Your leg is still healing,” Steve said, as a final, feeble attempt to protest.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t really need my legs to get around,” Peter pointed out, before tapping at his watch. “Romania… That’s a pretty long flight, but nothing I haven’t done before. There’s a favorable wind right now. Perfect.”

“Wait – hang on…” Steve called out, but Peter was already heading straight for the balcony doors, still slightly limping.

Steve caught up with him outside, as Peter was already swinging his legs across the railing. He laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Kid – I can’t possibly let you do this.”

“What do you suggest I do instead?” Peter asked, giving Steve a piercing look. “Stay inside for the next few years, hoping that the government will eventually see reason? Hiding away while people die? You of all people should know that that is not an option.”

Steve dropped his hand away from Peter’s shoulder, unsure of what to say. Around them, the wind was picking up, as if inviting Peter to take flight.

“Do me a favor,” Peter said. “When they ask the Avengers to round Bucky up – and I’m guessing they will… just nod along and say ‘yes of course, sir’. All right?”

“Be careful,” Steve said.

Peter smirked, before simply letting himself drop down from the balcony.

Black wings unfolded from his shoulders.

Steve looked on as he soared away, climbing higher and higher into the sky until he disappeared into the clouds.


	47. Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony’s visits to Peter have not been well received, recently. Tony hopes this week will be better [prompt by Spoods]  
> (tag: 20 y/o Peter)

Tony casually browses the menu, as he does every week. He is not sure why. The menu never changes.

Peter appears next to his table in his green apron. He doesn’t look particularly happy. Tony knows why. Last week, his usual visit didn’t end with them parting on great terms.

“Hello,” he says cheerfully.

“Hi,” Peter mutters back, not looking up from his notepad. “D’you want to drink something?”

“Why don’t you have a seat?”

“I’m working,” Peter says, a little stiffly.

“Actually, Becky says you can take a break,” Tony informs him. He can tell this only annoys Peter even more, but the boy does sit down, throwing his notebook to the table.

“Are you still mad at me?” Tony asks.

“Are you going to try and tip me?” Peter shoots back, crossing his arms.

Tony sighs. Peter has just started his second year at university. He had flat out refused that Tony and Pepper would pay for his studies, instead working a job at this local café to pay his way. Tony had initially accepted. Until, only last year, Peter’s aunt May passed away rather suddenly, and life just became that much harder for the kid. Tony and Pepper had been there to arrange the funeral, cancel the lease on the apartment, and everything else that needed to be done. And Tony had hoped that Peter would accept a little more help after that because frankly, it was pretty clear that he needed it. But Peter had refused again.

And so Tony had simply gone with plan B: visit the café where Peter worked every single week, and leaving a fifty dollar tip for his three dollar coffee.

“It’s just a little appreciation of your hard work,” he tries, spreading his hands.

“How about it’s insulting?” Peter bites out. “I’m an adult, and I’m not your charity case, Tony, how many times do I need to make that clear?”

“How many of you fellow students have parents helping them through their college years?” Tony challenges. “Charity has nothing to do with it.”

“Well, it’s not _your_ job to help me with anything!”

“Who else is going to do it?” Tony snaps back, realizing too late that that might have been a little tactless.

Peter looks like he would like to hurl something at Tony’s head. “Thanks a whole fucking lot!” He snarls, standing from his chair and turning away from Tony.

“Peter Benjamin Stark, sit down! We’re not done having this conversation.”

Peter turns back to him, looking a little startled.

“If you claim to be an adult, then act like one and don’t walk away from a discussion,” Tony says sternly. “Sit.”

Peter sits, giving Tony a bit of a searching look.

“After everything we’ve been through,” Tony continues, “you can’t possibly insinuate that all you are to Pepper and me is a _charity case_. Frankly, that’s offensive.”

“Don’t try and turn this on me!” Peter hisses. “If I needed your help, I’d ask for it.”

“Oh yeah, and that’s all perfectly swell, except that you _do_ need help, and you _don’t_ ask for it,” Tony states, pointing a finger at Peter. “You are several thousand dollars in debt already, and you've only been here one year.”

It stays silent for a moment. “How do you know how high my student debt is?” Peter then asks, his voice dangerously low.

Tony scoffs. “What, now you think I hacked into a system somewhere? Thanks for the vote of confidence. I know how much tuition costs you, Mr. Parker. And I know how much a crappy job at a café pays. That sort of stuff is public knowledge, just FYI. Have you maybe heard of Google? Could come in useful when you’re writing your essays-“

“All right,” Peter breaks in, slightly smiling for the first time. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You don’t need to go all ‘Mr. Parker’ on me. By the way, did you even notice that you called me ‘Stark’ before?”

Tony drops his hand to the table. “When?”

“That’s a no, then,” Peter confirms. “Freudian slip, maybe?”

Tony laughs, but it comes out a little uncomfortably. “Right. Well that – I suppose that makes a neat transition to our next order of business.”

“If it’s about you giving me money, I swear to God I will make a _scene_ ,” Peter earnestly tells him.

“It’s not,” Tony says, whipping out some paperwork and deciding to get this over with as quickly as possible. He’s not great with sentiment. “Pepper and I were wondering if you were open to the possibility of adoption.”

Peter’s eyes go as wide as saucers. “Excuse me? Who am I supposed to adopt? I’m a twenty-year-old student living in a tiny dorm room!”

“You’re supposed to _get_ adopted, you complete imbecile!” Tony half-shouts, very aware that this conversations is not at _all_ progressing as calmly as he had promised Pepper it would.

“What are you talking about?” Peter asks, and Tony is not sure if the deep red color on his cheeks is from anger, embarrassment or something else. “I’m twenty years old!”

“Well, yes,” Tony agrees. “You don’t need an official guardian anymore. But a legal adoption is still possible. This is more… a way to formally acknowledge our relationship. And, possibly, it might make you feel less awkward about accepting help from us.”

Peter stands up so fast that his chair topples backwards. He turns away without another word, and marches straight to the door towards the kitchen, disappearing from sight.

Well, all in all, the whole thing is going _splendidly_ so far. Pepper will probably have his hide when she finds out about it.

He notices Becky, the owner of the café, poking her head around the kitchen door, her eyes scanning the café until they land on Tony. For a moment, Tony is worried that Peter sent her out to throw him from the café and possibly ban him for life. But then she beckons him.

Tony picks up the paperwork and moves towards the door. He steps into the kitchen to find Peter crying next to the dishwasher.

“Oh, crap,” Tony mutters, stuffing the papers into a pocket and stepping forward to pull Peter into a hug. “If you’re crying about the idea of having the last name ‘Stark’,” he says, in a weak attempt at humor, “I can assure you that changing your last name is in no way a mandatory part of the adoption.”

“You’re such an idio-o-ot,” Peter blubbers, grasping onto Tony’s jacket. “I d-don’t u-understand how you even function.”

Tony chuckles, carefully rubbing circles on Peter’s back.

“You’re so n-nice, Tony,” Peter then manages, leaning back and lifting a hand to wipe his eyes. “This means so much to me. Sorry I’m such an asshole to you all the time.”

“You’re not,” Tony promises, reaching out to tuck a strand of Peter’s hair behind his ear. “You should hear Pepper when you’re not around.”

Peter gives a watery chuckle. “I don’t believe that.” He turns away from Tony and runs the kitchen tap, splashing some water into his face and then furiously rubbing his eyes with a towel.

“It’s a pretty big decision,” Tony says. “You don’t have to decide now. Maybe you’d like to spend the weekend at home so we can all talk it over?”

Peter nods, and that’s everything Tony wants.

“All right,” Tony says, relieved. Maybe Pepper won’t kill him, after all. “When does your shift end?”

“Let me talk to Becky,” Peter murmurs. “It’s pretty quiet today, and I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate on work anymore, anyway.”

Tony nods and lets Peter step past him to go find Becky.

He quickly takes out his phone to let Pepper know that the whole thing went smoothly and Peter will be joining them for dinner tonight. Knowing Pepper, she’ll make sure there’s enough food to feed an orphanage.

Peter returns with a to-go cup. “I got your coffee,” he explains a little sheepishly as he hands it to Tony.

“Thanks, kid,” Tony says, reaching for his wallet.

“On the house,” Peter tells him with a smile.

“So no tip, then?”

Peter shakes his head, looking a little exasperated. “No tip. Maybe just give me those papers, instead?”

Tony takes out the adoption papers and hands them to Peter, who takes them as if they are extremely fragile. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

Tony reaches out to card a hand through his hair.

“Let’s go home.”


	48. Mrs. Kowalski

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's new intern keeps getting unexplainable injuries, and he needs Sam to do something about it. [prompt by 55935]  
> (tag: References to (but no actual) child abuse)

“Sam, are you in the building? I need you down in the workshop.”

“Tony,” Sam says, pressing the volume button on his phone. “Why are you whispering?”

“I’m hiding in the supply closet,” Tony whispers, as if that is a perfectly normal explanation. “I don’t want Peter to hear me. He’s got a black eye again. Can you come down and do your psychology stuff?”

Psychology stuff. What a great way to feel appreciated. “I counsel war veterans, Tony.”

“Potato, potahto,” Tony murmurs dismissively.

“More like potato, cow,” Sam retorts. “But fine, I’ll come down. If only because I know even with _no_ experience, I’ll still be better at this than you.”

He hangs up and rises from his seat to make his way down to the workshop. Tony has a new intern whom he has grown uncharacteristically fond of over the last few weeks. Sam can understand why. Peter is polite, enthusiastic, and most importantly: he absolutely _reveres_ Tony. But soon after hiring him, Tony was faced with a moral dilemma, after Peter kept turning up to the internship with unexplainable injuries. A limp one week, a bruise on the cheek the other. Tony clearly knew he needed to speak up about it, but had no idea how to tactfully do so.

Honestly, it would have been funny to see the man floundering, if it weren’t for the fact they were talking about a possible case of severe bullying or even child abuse.

When Sam arrives in the workshop, Peter is sitting at one of the desks, while Tony is all the way across the room, clearly hoping to get involved as least as possible, but also no willing to leave the room entirely.

There is a bruise under the kid’s left eye, but as he sits hunched over his notebook, Sam also spots a bruise on his lower back, disappearing under his shirt.

Red flag number one.

“Hey kid. What happened to you?” Sam asks nonchalantly as he sits down.

“Huh? Oh, this,” Peter says, reaching up to carefully touch his left eye. “I fell.. into a.. park bench.”

Obvious bullshit. Red flag number two.

On the other side of the workshop, Tony chooses _this_ moment to drop a metal tray to the floor and grumble a curse. The noise isn’t even that loud, but Peter still ducks his head between his shoulders.

Flinching away from loud noises. Red flag number three.

Time to engage. Step one: get intel on the child’s home environment.

“So, do you have any brothers or sisters, Peter?”

Peter glances up from his paper, blinking as he processes the question. “Um. No.”

“So it’s just you and your parents, then?”

“I live with my aunt,” Peter murmurs.

“Oh, I see. Do you live nearby?”

“Queens.”

“Oh, I don’t go there much. Is it a nice neighborhood?”

Peter nods, his eyes suddenly beginning to sparkle a little. “It’s great. I love it. The people are the best.”

“All right,” Sam says, a little surprised to find a teenager that enthusiastic about his local community.

Tony has approached the desk where they are sitting. “Sam is a counselor,” he informs Peter with a remarkable lack of subtlety.

Sam throws Tony an exasperated look. Can’t the man see that he is trying to be diplomatic about this?

“Who do you counsel?” Peter asks, clearly just being polite by showing an interest in Sam’s job.

“War veterans, mainly. And super-heroes, too, I suppose.”

“So you, like, advise the Avengers?” Peter asks with a thoughtful expression.

“I try. They don’t always listen to me.”

“Huh,” Peter says.

-

Later that afternoon, Peter slips into the office where Sam is working.

“Hey,” Sam says, surprised. He hadn’t expected the kid to take the bait this quickly. He had expected that he would need at least a few more days to slowly gain his trust.

“Hey,” Peter murmurs, shuffling his feet. “Can I talk to you? You know – as an Avenger counselor?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay,” Peter says. “Because I’ve been having this problem for a while, you see.”

Sam steels himself.

“I should probably start by saying I’m Spider-Man,” Peter says as he slowly paces the room, “because it is somewhat related to my problem.” And he draws a breath to continue talking, as if he hasn’t just turned Sam’s world upside down. “Now, I have this teacher, Mrs. Kowalski-“

“Hang on, kid,” Sam interrupts, because frankly, this kid has to be mental if he thinks he can just drop this information on Sam and then move on. “When you say you are Spider-Man… are you talking about playing the role in your school theater production? Just to clarify.”

“No, no,” Peter says, his tone still airily. “What I mean is, I have this suit and I go out almost every afternoon to fight crime. Anyway, Mrs. Kowalski thinks-“

“Okay – I don’t give a tiny rats ass about Mrs. Kowalski right now,” Sam informs him. “Sit down!”

Peter meekly sits down, looking genuinely surprised by the shock on Sam’s face.

“You can’t just breeze past the fact that you’re Spider-Man, kid.”

Peter looks lost. “You’re an Avenger. Isn’t this just everyday stuff for you?”

“Oh, yeah, you’re right,” Sam sardonically replies. “New super-heroes just pop up like daisies every day. How old are you again?”

“Fifteen.”

“And what exactly does your aunt have to say about her nephew having an extracurricular activity like this?”

“She doesn’t know,” Peter says. “That’s part of the problem. No one knows. Not one person. You’re the first person I told, ever.”

“All right,” Sam says as he rubs his forehead. “Why don’t you tell me about your _problem_ while I take some time to process this information.”

“I have this teacher –“

“Mrs. Kowalski.”

“Right. And I always crash into buildings and stuff, and then I’ll turn up to school with a big bump on my head or something, and she has been asking about it. She definitely thinks I have problems at home or something. I’m worried she’ll call the cops on my aunt. Meanwhile, my aunt thinks I’m getting into fights at school, and I’m worried she’s going to call the principal. So I’m just wondering… how do other Avengers deal with this?”

“How do other Avengers,” Sam slowly clarifies, “deal with their teachers and aunts asking about the injuries they sustained by crashing into buildings?”

“You know what I mean,” Peter says, looking a little awkward. “I’m sure you get similar situations.”

“I can, with complete certainty, say that we do not.”

“Oh,” Peter says, looking disappointed.

Sam leans forward, planting his elbows on the desk. “Let’s put aside for a moment, that this entire situation is insane… And focus on one thing in particular. Can you explain to me _why_ you keep getting into accidents? If you get injured on a regular basis, that is not a good thing. Whether it’s problems at home or fights at school or… _crashing into buildings_.”

“Dunno,” Peter murmurs, shifting in his seat. “I haven’t been doing this that long. And my web fluid isn’t working perfectly yet, so sometimes it doesn’t work right, and then I faceplant.”

“I see,” Sam says, as calmly as possible. “In that case: first things first.”

-

“Tony,” Sam says as he leads Peter back into the workshop. “The kid needs your help.”

Tony jumps to attention. “What is it? What is it?”

Sam pokes Peter in the back, signaling him to come clean.

“Well, see,” Peter begins. “Mrs. Kowalski is this really, _really_ unbelievably -“

“PRIORITIES, kid!” Sam barks.

“Oh, right,” Peter says. “I’m Spider-Man. I guess I should lead with that. And, uh… I keep getting injuries on patrol and so I wondered if maybe you’d help me perfect my web fluid formula.”

Sam watches a whole range of emotions cross Tony’s face in a split second. But, as always, Tony quickly manages to school his expression into something cool and aloft, as if he is _of course_ not at all surprised by all this.

“Well, sure, kid,” Tony says, as if he gets these kind of requests on a daily basis. “But now I’m curious – who exactly is Mrs. Kowalski?”


	49. Homeschooled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is quarantined at the compound, and needs some new methods of studying. Enter the Avengers. [prompt by Lady_Gallatea_Ravenclaw]  
> (tag: Corona/COVID? Is that a tag?)

Steve is sitting upright in one of the arm chairs, writing out a letter. Thor, on the other hand, is slouching on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table and his eyes glazed over as he stares off into the distance.

“Hey,” Peter says as he dumps his schoolbooks on the table, opening his history book, first. He has been homeschooling for over a month now, and he has noticed that each day, it’s becoming more difficult to stick to his working schedule. Especially now that the weather has improved so much. He’d rather go to the park or something – but that is obviously impossible. “I didn’t know you were still gonna be here today,” he says with a questioning gaze at Thor.

“They don’t want the virus to spread to other planets,” Thor informs him, staring up at the ceiling. “So I am quarantined on earth, and it is proving to be my greatest challenge yet.”

“I know what you mean. I’m bored, too.”

Thor turns his head towards him. “Are you also quarantined on earth?”

“I’m pretty much quarantined on earth, I expect, my whole life,” Peter dryly points out.

Thor gives a solemn nod. “That is an unfortunate fate.”

“I’m just really tired of homeschooling myself. It’s boring. I don’t get to hang out with friends and make fun of teachers… I really have to study for my history test, but I can’t set my mind to it.”

Steve immediately perks up, pushing his letter aside. “I’ll help you. I _lived_ history.”

“I don’t really need _help_. I mean – I understand everything…”

“Come on, I can help you,” Steve says, eagerly pulling Peter’s history book closer. “What’s it about? The great depression? World War Two?”

“The age of colonization,” Peter says.

“Oh,” Steve frowns down at the page. “Well, I don’t really know anything about that.”

“I figured as much.”

“Is it to do with that guy Columbus?”

“That’s what it start with, yeah,” Peter says, before launching into an explanation about the colonization of America, from Columbus’ first voyage, to the wars with the Aztecs and Incas, to the first colonial settlements in the North of America. Steve vaguely remembers a few things from his own high school education, and Peter finds it interesting to discover how perspectives on history have changed since then. Not to mention it’s kind of cool to explain history to Captain America himself.

“That was interesting,” Steve says, after Peter has spent about half an hour going through the whole chapter. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you any personal anecdotes.”

“Actually, this helped,” Peter assures him. “At least it made things a little less boring. And that gives me an idea.”

He turns to Thor, who has been quietly listening to the whole thing, looking about ready to fall asleep. “Thor, wanna help me with one of my other subjects?”

Thor blinks, coming to life. “Subjects?”

“As in, my high school subjects. Not like ‘people I rule over as a king’,” Peter clarifies, because he can tell from Thor’s face that the man is confused. “Like, PE.”

“PE is a subject?”

“PE. Physical Education.”

“Education of the physical?” Thor asks, sitting up a little and looking intrigued.

“I guess. I mean – it’s just sports, really.”

“Ah I see,” Thor replies, looking relieved at understanding Peter. “Shall we commence with a four horse chariot race?”

“I was thinking more like, going for a run.”

“Running,” Thor repeats with a deep frown. “Not my particular forte.”

It does occur to Peter now that he has never seen Thor run. “All right. How about high jumping?”

“To what end? Is that a much sought after skill amongst earthlings?”

“Sure. Imagine you need to reach something that is above your head,” Peter explains, feeling a little exasperated. “Comes in handy, then.”

“I see,” Thor nods. “I imagine that is a daily occurrence for you, tiny spider.”

“That not really my-“

“Because you are tiny.”

“Yeah, I got it. Thanks.”

“I’ll go for a run with you, Peter,” Steve offers.

“No, no!” Thor says hastily, rising from the couch. “I shall assist the Spiderling in his quest to physically educate himself, so help me Wodan! Come Peter: to the fields!”

-

“Damn. Missed the target.”

“A valiant attempt,” Thor assures him.

“Yeah,” Peter says. “I just have to get used to the weight. I haven’t exactly ever thrown spears around before.” He picks up another one, balancing it on his palm.

They are standing on the wide stretch of grass behind the compound. Peter wonders if anyone is watching them from behind the windows, because he’s pretty sure that this activity looks ridiculous. Then again, out of all the options for a physical activity that Thor had suggested, this one seemed the least insane.

“Now, prepare your footing,” Thor instructs him. “Imagine the target is a wild boar you want to feast on for dinner!”

“I’d rather imagine it’s my economics teacher,” Peter admits, before taking a few steps forward and hurling the spear through the air. This time, he finally hits the target.

Thor throws up his arms. “Victory! We shall feast on your economics teacher, tonight.”

-

Peter finds Natasha and Clint in the kitchen. “Hey, Natasha, how many languages do you speak?”

“Define ‘speak’,” she says.

“About twenty,” Clint puts in.

“Okay – so can you help me practice my Spanish?”

She smirks. “Ya sabes que jamás te podría decir que no.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

-

It seems that, after Peter returns from his Spanish session, word about his study method has spread. Because he finds Tony and Bruce fighting over him in the lounge.

“Why are we even discussing this? Obviously, Iron Man is teaching him chemistry,” Tony huffs, patting himself on the chest.

“We all know you’re intelligent, Tony. But I have seven PhD’s too, you know.”

“I’ve known him longer,” Tony points out.

“What does that have to do with _anything_?”

“Um, actually –“ Peter says, and both men jump, whirling around to face him. Peter smiles and gives a little wave. “I don’t have any chemistry or science homework today. But… I still have to write an essay for literature.”

Tony stares at him, clearly torn between his hatred for literature and his desire to play some part in Peter’s homeschooling.

“I read ‘Finnegans Wake’ by James Joyce,” Peter adds.

Bruce’s eyes widen in recognition. “I’ll leave that to you, Tony,” he quickly says.

Tony narrows his eyes. “Sure. Bring it on.”

-

“Mister Finn, you’re going to be Mister Finnagain! Comeday morm and, O, you’re vine! Sendday’s eve and, ah, you’re vinegar! Our cubehouse still rocks as earwitness to the thunder of his arafatas but we hear also through successive ages that shebby choruysh of unkalified muzzlenimiissilehims that would blackguardise the whitestone ever hurtleturtled out of heaven.”

“Did I just have a stroke?” Tony asks.

“Nope,” Peter says. “That’s how he writes.”

“He sounds like Thor after a few shots of whiskey.”

“Accurate. Anyway, don’t worry. I’ve got all the questions on the content covered. All I have to do is write a paragraph on the author. And I’ll need something more than a comparison to a drunk Thor.”

“On it,” Tony says, grabbing his tablet.

It doesn’t take long. After all, all Peter really needs to do for this section is paraphrase Wikipedia. He really didn’t need any help with this, to be honest. He just hadn’t wanted to tell Tony that, after the man so clearly wanted to be involved.

“Anything else I can help you with?” Tony asks.

“No. That’s it for today. We’ll see what happens tomorrow.”

“I hope you realize that all the other Avengers will be gearing up to help you with your homework every day from now on?”

“That has just occurred to me, yes,” Peter admits.

“All right,” Tony says. “Here’s to the next who-knows-how-many-days of quarantine!”


	50. The Green Goblin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter really needs to defeat a new enemy, but stupid Flash keeps trying to safe his life. [prompt by Jenhiddles]

Peter runs across the bridge, ducking his head as debris rains down around him.

Honestly, he should just stop going on school trips. They always end in disaster.

The Green Goblin cackles as he jets through the sky, blasting another pillar of the bridge into oblivion. Peter can see Ned running in the distance and frankly has no idea where his other classmates are.

He hides behind a red car, peeking across the hood. If no one is watching, he can put on his suit and-

Someone tall crashes into him from his left and he is thrown to the floor, moments before a huge stone pillar crashes to the ground in the exact spot where he was just hiding, effectively flattening the red car.

Peter groans, poking at the person who pushed him out of the way, and then recognizes it is Flash lying half on top of him.

“Are you okay?” Flash pants, pushing himself up. His eyes focus on Peter’s face and his face falls. “Oh.”

Peter blinks. “Did you just try to save my life?”

“Well, I didn’t know it was _you_ ,” Flash counters, defensively, pushing himself to the side and sitting up.

“Right.”

“We need to get out of here,” Flash mutters as he gets to his feet, wincing when an explosion in the distance makes the whole bridge tremble.

“So, go.”

Flash gives him an odd look. “Hey, I know you hate me, but this is life or death, Parker. So be smart and just follow me!”

He starts jogging away.

Relieved to be rid of him, Peter immediately turns away and ducks behind another stone pillar, reaching for his backpack.

He is still fumbling to pull his suit out from underneath his books when a voice pipes up: “Hey!”

Peter yelps as he drops his backpack, his head whipping around. Flash has popped his head around the pillar and angrily looks down at him. “I told you to follow me! What are you doing?”

“Flash – get lost!”

“I’m trying to _help_ you, Penis!”

Another loud bang, this one much closer. People scream, and the maniacal cackling is filling the air again.

“Go away!” Peter yells at Flash. “Go away go awaygoaway!”

“You’re insane!” Flash bellows back, but he does turn away and starts running again.

Peter puts on his suit faster than he ever has before, dumping his own clothes to the asphalt without a second thought. As soon as he puts on the mask, he can hear Tony yelling into his ear.

“-ete! Pete, are you around? Could use some help over here. _._ Peter..?”

“Sorry!” Peter yells at he fires his webs and pulls himself of towards the top of one of the stone pillars. “Identity was at risk!”

“Well, glad to have you, now! This green piece of crap is _really_ fast and I’m – shit, dangit!” Peter watches as the Goblin takes a sharp turn to the right and Iron Man almost crashes into the bridge.

“I can’t fire my lasers!” Tony shouts, evidently forgetting that he is blaring right into Peter’s ear and definitely causing some hearing loss right now. “The bridge is already damaged. If I accidentally hit it, the whole thing might come crashing down!”

“I’m on him!” Peter yells, swinging closer.

Tony was right. This green guy is _fast_. Now, Peter is fast, too, but here on the middle of a bridge, he doesn’t have much wriggling room; there aren’t any tall building around that he can swing from. Just a fast flowing river on both sides. Tony can fly, but his turns are much slower.

The Green Goblin seems to be well prepared to take advantage of both those things, ducking, diving, turning and even rolling in mid air.

But it _is_ two very stubborn super-heroes against one.

“YES!”

Peter’s webbing has wrapped itself firmly around the engine on the Goblin’s jet and he starts crashing down towards the bridge, spluttering and rotating around his axis. “Got him!” Peter shouts triumphantly.

“Civilian on the bridge!” Tony suddenly warns.

Peter glances down and _of course_ is freaking Flash, still clambering through the debris and hiding behind cars, as if he’s simply involved in nothing more than a fun game of paintball.

“Get him out of here!” Tony yells as he jets after the goblin who is about to crash into the bridge deck. “I got our guy.”

Peter doesn’t need to be told that twice. He needs to stop Flash. If his classmate finds Peter’s clothes and backpack just lying around, he’ll either figure out Peter is Spider-Man or… think something _very_ weird has happened.

With an elegant forward flip he lands on the bridge deck, right in front of Flash.

Flash screeches to a halt. Both of them duck their heads between their shoulders when a loud crash signals the Goblin has landed, probably quite ungracefully.

“You need to vacate the premises, sir!” Peter commands in the deepest voice he can muster.

“I’m looking for a classmate!” Flash hastily explains, waving his arms around. “He’s a real dumbass who is still hiding somewhere on the middle of the bridge!”

Is this guy being _serious_ right now? “Your classmate is safe, I’ve taken care of that.”

Flash looks sceptic. “Are you sure?”

Peter has never felt so torn between a desire to punch Flash in the face for being so dense, and a strange urge to thank him for giving a shit. “I’m sure. You need to leave, now.”

“Okay,” Flash says, slowly nodding. “Thanks!”

Peter merely salutes, before firing his web again and launching himself into the sky.

Flash raises a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he gazes after Spider-Man, and he can’t keep himself from yelling out: “Are you really friends with Peter Parker?”


	51. The babysitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is a responsible parent. And what do responsible parents do? They hire responsible babysitters. [prompt by 8salfeti8]

“Next exit.”

“The GPS says to keep going straight.”

“Who do you trust more, your GPS or your husband?”

“I don’t know,” Pepper says. “Which one of you almost sent me over a cliff last week?”

“That was a shortcut.”

“A shortcut down a ravine!”

“Just take the next exit.”

“I don’t think so,” Pepper says, switching lanes. “I’d like to live, tonight.”

“Are you calling me irresponsible?”

“I’m calling you my ‘leading cause of death’.”

“I’ll have you know that I was the one who _very responsibly_ arranged for a babysitter to watch Peter tonight.”

Pepper glances sideways. “What… Tony, what are you talking about? Peter is almost sixteen years old, he doesn’t need a babysitter.”

“That is exactly the kind of thing an irresponsible parent would say.”

-

Peter shuffles into the living room and comes to a full stop when he spots someone sitting on the couch. A man with a suit and an orange tie that clashes horribly with his pink socks, and a briefcase balancing on his knees. “Oh. Mr. Coulson. Uh – Tony and Pepper aren’t here right now.”

“Oh, I know,” Mr. Coulson replies casually. “Tony asked me to babysit you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Babysit. Since he is out of town. Call me Phil, by the way.” He carefully places the briefcase on the table on front of him.

“Well, he didn’t tell _me_ about that!” Peter protests as he shuffles closer. “Jeez, that guy has no clue how parenting works. I’m sixteen, not six.”

Phil Coulson gives a half-shrug. “He was pretty insistent.”

“Well, okay. So… what happens next? You wanna read me a story?”

Phil chuckles. “No. I suppose nothing really happens.” He leans in and picks up a newspaper. “You’re right. You don’t really need a babysitter. So, you just do whatever you usually do, and I’ll be down here if a fire breaks out or anything like that.”

“Okay,” Peter says with some hesitation. “I guess I’ll go finish my homework.”

Phil nods. “Sounds good.”

Peter returns to his room. It’s a strange thought that Phil Coulson is just randomly sitting in the living room right now. Tony has used some weird parenting techniques before, but this really takes the cake. He has probably read something online about responsible parents and their babysitters, and then decided that the best man for the job would be a secret agent.

Peter finishes his homework quickly, and is about to settle in for an evening of Netflix, when FRIDAY pipes up. “Mr. Phil Coulson asks whether you’d like to join him in the living room. He is about to start watching Star Wars. But he says, feel free to stay in your room.”

“Oh,” Peter says, a little thrown. “I don’t know. I mean… I’ve never seen Star Wars.”

It stays quiet for a moment. “Mr. Phil Coulson says that is a crime against humanity and you should really join him,” FRIDAY then informs him.

Peter cracks a smile. “Well, okay. Tell him I’m on my way.”

When he returns to the living room, he spots the briefcase lying open on the coffee table. It is apparently crammed full of DVD’s.

“This is what you carry around all day?”Peter jokes.

Phil chuckles. “Ah, yes. Don’t tell Fury. He still thinks I carry state secrets in here.”

Peter sits on the edge of the couch. “You know you don’t need those, right? FRIDAY can just play any movie you want.”

“I much prefer the old fashioned way,” Phil says, picking up a DVD and handing it to Peter. “How does that look?”

Peter hums as he eyes the DVD case. “Star Wars, episode four. I mean, that’s cool. But I haven’t seen any of these movies. So we should probably start with episode one, or you’ll have to catch me up on the story.”

“Well, no. See, the fourth episode is actually the first movie, and the first episode is the fourth movie.”

Peter lowers the DVD, a frown lining his face. “Someone should tell that director how counting works.”

“This was the first movie I ever saw in cinema. I’m afraid I can’t offer you _that_ experience, although Stark’s home cinema is nothing to sneeze at. Do you want to see it?” Phil asks, and Peter can tell from the gleeful look on his face that he is really hoping that Peter will say ‘yes’. Peter can understand why. Whenever he falls in love with a movie, he wants everyone else to see it, too.

“If we’re twenty minutes in and you hate it, feel free to excuse yourself,” Phil adds.

Peter hands him the DVD. “Let’s watch.”

-

Tony hears battle shrieks echoing down the hallway as he and Pepper enter the compound. After exchanging a glance, they move towards the living room. When Pepper opens the door, the surround sound hits them like a tidal wave.

On the projected screen, Luke Skywalker is whirling his green light saber around. In front of the screen sits Phil Coulson, mesmerized, a vague smile on his face. And next to him on the couch lies Peter; snoring softly, a piece of popcorn stuck in his hair. It’s a miracle he can sleep through all this racket.

“FRIDAY, can you turn down the volume?” Tony asks, and the noise drops to a more tolerable level. “Phil - What’s all this?”

Phil looks up, a handful of popcorn lifted half-way towards his mouth. He lowers it. “Star Wars. Episode six.” His eyes flicker to Peter. “He liked episodes four and five. Drifted off during this one.”

“It’s past midnight and tomorrow is a school day!” Pepper chides as she rounds the couch to approach Peter.

Phil gives a sheepish shrug. “Well… He’s getting some sleep, isn’t he?”

“Phil, you doofus,” Pepper huffs, before softly poking Peter in the shoulder. “Peter, honey. Wake up.”

Peter slowly and lazily stretches out his limbs before opening one eye, blinking. “Wha-tim.. izzit?” He murmurs.

“Time to go to bed. Come on, sweetie.”

Peter slowly sits up, lifting a hand to flatten his hair a little, and gets to his feet. “Mmmkay… Bye Phil.”

“Bye kid.”

Pepper supports Peter towards the stairs as he sleepily stumbles forward, yawning, still clutching his pillow.

“Fun movies,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?’

“Yeah.” Peter hugs his pillow a little tighter and looks up at Pepper. “Can Phil babysit me again next week?”


	52. Life at uni

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter had hoped to make it through college without having to deal with the same shit he went through in high school. But now, it’s all going to start again. People staring, whispering. [prompt by Whyamiobsessed]

Well. Life at uni officially _sucks_.

It’s his first day of his first year at MIT, and Peter is already fed up. He was initially partnered up with a Dani Bassett to prepare a presentation about scientific research, but for some reason she looked extremely unhappy about that. She proceeded to have a whispered discussion with the professor who teaches the class. And apparently got her way.

“Change of plans. You will be doing the project with Derek Tayport,” the professor explains to Peter, pointing at a sullen-looking student who still hasn’t gotten up from behind his laptop.

Peter frowns a little, folding his arms and glancing towards Dani who has seated herself at a table in the corner, her back turned to everyone else. “Did she ask to switch partners?”

“There was a conflict of schedule,” the professor says with a shrug. Which sounds like a bullshit excuse. But Peter takes it in stride, instead approaching Derek and sitting down. “Hey. I’m Peter. We’re partners.”

“I’m Derek Tayport,” Derek announces without even looking up at him. “You know the Tayport Lecture hall in our building? That was named after my grandfather. You can google him.”

“Um,” Peter says. “That’s okay, I believe you.”

“We can do our presentation about the research he has done,” Derek suggests. “Practically writes itself. I can get him to make a little video. And he has a speech that he gave a few years ago about his work. We can just use that. We won’t even have to do anything.”

“Wouldn’t it be more interesting to use an example of our own research and present the findings?” Peter asks. “Isn’t that sort of the point of this assignment?”

“A lecture hall is named after him,” Derek repeats, enunciating slowly. “Frankly, if the professor has a problem with it, she’s dumb and I’ll get her fired.”

“When can you get together for this?” Peter asks, already highly annoyed.

“Weekends.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. I work weekends,” Peter lies, pushing his chair back and getting up. “Conflict of schedule. Excuse while I inform the professor that I’ll be doing this project alone.”

-

MJ catches up with him outside. “Hey, you dork. How was your first day?”

“Principles of Engineering Practice was cool,” Peter says. “Introduction to Modeling and Simulation was already frustrating.”

“My roommate takes that class,” MJ informs him. “Name’s Dani.”

“Whadduya know.”

“Familiar?”

“Yeah,” Peter says without elaborating. “What’s she like?”

“Pretty nice. Little high-strung. Swears more than I do.”

“Wow.”

“Indeed.”

Running footsteps echo down the hallway, and Peter turns to see Derek jogging up to them. “Hey,” Derek says, a little out of breath. “So what do we do about the project?”

Peter frowns. “We’re not partners anymore, I’m doing it alone.”

“Oh, that was for real?” Derek shrugs. “I was gonna give you a free ride to a big fat A plus, but if you think you can do better… Hello!” That last greeting is aimed at MJ and Derek holds out a formal hand. “I’m Derek Tayport. You know the Tayport Lecture hall in our building? That was named after my grandfather. You can google him.”

MJ sends Peter a look that says _is this guy for real?_ Peter shrugs.

“What did he do to get his name on there?” MJ asks.

“Invented a new anti-fungal product.”

“Oh. That’s underwhelming,” MJ says.

“Oh, no, it’s a pretty big deal actually,” Derek carries on, completely serious. “He has a lot of money.”

“Cool,” MJ says. “I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“How far _exactly_ can you fuck off?”

-

Peter follows MJ up the stairs towards her tiny apartment. He knows he has been complaining about Derek the whole way here, but he just can’t get over the fact that people like him actually exist. “His ego is so inflated, it’s a miracle he hasn’t floated off into the sun yet.”

“You gotta be chill, Peter,” MJ says. “Don’t let assholes wind you up.”

“Is that a Buddha quote?”

She chuckles as she unlocks the front door and opens it, kicking a stray pair of shoes out of the way. “I’ll make you some chamomile tea to calm you down.”

They enter the shared living room, and Peter spots Dani working at the table. She looks up, her eyes narrowing when she spots him. “I’ll get out of your way,” she quickly says, gathering up her books and escaping into her bedroom.

She leaves the door open, so as MJ turns towards the kitchen to boil the kettle, Peter takes the opportunity to shuffle towards the room and knock on the door.

Dani glances up at him as she settles on her bed, piling her books up next to her.

Peter leans against the doorpost. “Why did you ask to switch partners? Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” she says, a little stiffly. “But I’ve worked really, _really_ hard to get here. The last thing I need is to get stuck on a project with someone who got a free ticket into college, no offense.”

“How exactly is that no offense?”

“Fine, full offense. Take it however you want it. People like you don’t understand what it takes for people like me to even step foot into this place.”

“ _People like me_?”

“I know you’re Tony Stark’s little mentee. Possibly illegitimate child, if I should believe _those_ news articles, which I’m not sure I do.”

Peter blinks. He had hoped to keep that information secret for at least the first few weeks. “Did you do a background check or something?”

“Yes, I always google my fellow students,” she says. “I need to know what I’m getting into.”

“You’re a psycho,” Peter tells her, before stomping away.

-

Tony comes by during the weekend and they have lunch in a quiet café where Tony orders a hamburger with fries, which is something Peter can’t remember ever seeing him eat before.

“What is this Derek person’s last name? I want to google his grandpa, see if he _actually_ did anything interesting.”

“I don’t care about dumb Derek,” Peter mutters. “I care about people like Dani, who think I’m some kind of big fat freeloader who bribed someone to get admitted here. This is exactly why I didn’t want people to know anything about me.”

“You need to stop hiding,” Tony tells him as he liberally puts extra salt on his fries. “Instead, what you gotta do is make a kick-ass presentation and show them what you’re worth.”

Peter slowly nods. Tony is right. Peter went to college to prepare himself for the real world. And if he really wants to run Stark Industries one day, he’ll have to learn to deal with annoying people. “All right. I _will_ give a kick-ass presentation. It’s going to be mind-blowing.”

-

IT’S OFFICIAL: TONY STARK’S HEIR IS GOING TO MIT.

Peter groans as he eyes the headline and the picture underneath. This is not what he wanted to wake up to today. He hadn’t even spotted any journalists at the café yesterday. But clearly, they had been there. There is a particularly unflattering photo of Tony cramming a hamburger into his mouth as Peter slurps his coffee.

So he is Tony Stark’s ‘heir’ now, is he? Damn, this comes at a bad time. He had been so careful to lay low for a while. Speculations about him and Tony haven’t made any front pages in at least two years. Peter had hoped to make it through college without having to deal with the same shit he went through in high school. But now, it’s all going to start again. People staring, whispering.

Screw it. It’s going to be different this time, because he’s not going to hide anymore. He’s going to show people that he didn’t just stumble into Tony Stark’s life by sheer dumb luck. He has worked hard to get here, and he knows what he is doing. Time to work on his mind-blowing presentation.

As he gets to work, he tries not to think about the fact that most of his fellow students will be waking up to the same news headlines today. Of course, he’s pretty sure Dani will see her views confirmed by all this.

-

But as it turns out, the opposite is true.

Dani approaches him before their next class. “Hey. I’m sorry I was such an asshole to you before. Turns out you’re _not_ one of those snotty freeloader rich kids.”

“Oh, wow,” Peter says. “That’s unexpected. I haven’t even given my mind-blowing presentation yet.”

She smiles, a little embarrassed. “Yeah, well, MJ talks about you a lot. And I read an article about you this weekend.”

“Interested, were you?”

“It’s not as if I could check any news website without coming across your big stupid face!” she defends.

“What did the article say? Because if it’s that one about how I have a cure for cancer, that was wildly inaccurate. I’m only about 90% close to one.” He smirks.

She rolls her eyes. “God, I take everything back. You’re an idiot.”

“Well, then I guess the presentation is still on.”

“Yes, please,” she says. “If only so you can wipe that dumb, smug smile of Derek’s face before I smack it off.”

Peter is starting to like her, now.

-

In the end, it’s not as bad as Peter expected. Most people don’t even bring it up, or just tell him it’s ‘pretty cool, dude’. He supposes things are different at university, with most of the high school drama in the past. There’s a few assholes who suddenly want to befriend him, fishing around for job opportunities. And there’s a few more assholes who are getting irrationally angry about it.

Derek is one of _those_ assholes. “At least now I know why you thought you were ‘too good’ for my research proposal,” he accuses during a study session.

“Yeah,” Dani says, not taking her eyes off her book. “Really missed an opportunity to talk about your grandpa’s fungus for half an hour.”

“My grandfather had a lecture hall named after-“

“Your grandfather,” Dani says emphatically, now looking straight at Derek, “was fired for sexual harassment. Frankly, I should start a petition to have that name taken down.”

Derek goes red. “What do you-“

“I do background checks.”

-

A few weeks later, when the day of his presentation finally rolls around, Peter is already feeling a lot less out of his depth. His roommates are really nice, his fellow students are mostly great and often genuinely interested in his work for Stark Industries, and the teachers are all awesome.

It’s such a breath of fresh air compared to high school. Peter really doesn’t feel that much pressure to give a mind-blowing presentation anymore. He doesn’t need to defend himself. He just needs to talk about the research because _he_ likes it.

So when it’s his turn to present, he simply calmly explains all the research results he has gathered over the last few years on the secondary production of neutral pi-mesons in gamma-ray emission.

“You didn’t even _do_ this research, this is Dr. Banner’s research,” Derek argues once Peter asks if there’s any questions.

“Dude. You only talked about your grandpa’s research,” another student points out.

“At least I didn’t pretend like _I_ invented it.”

“Actually, Dr. Banner _does_ research continuum diffuse gamma-ray emission, but he has never focused on the secondary production of neutral pi-mesons,” Peter says. “I’m happy to explain the difference, but I believe everyone else gets it, so why don’t I talk to you after class?”

Derek turns red.

-

“Dani and I are going for some coffee. Wanna come?”

“Yeah, cool.”

Peter follows MJ out into the sunny streets of Boston. Having coffee on a sunny terrace sounds like a perfect ending to today’s victory. Overhearing the professor tell Derek after class that he’ll need to redo the presentation of she’ll have to fail him, was just icing on the cake.

Life at uni is pretty good.


	53. Spoiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone agrees: Tony is spoiling Morgan far too much. He'll let her do anything she wants. Anything? [prompt by SpideyStark26]

“Tony – what is Morgan eating?”

Tony turns to look at Pepper, an immediate guilty expression on his face. “Cereal,” he says, in innocent tones.

Pepper sets her briefcase on the kitchen table, frowning down at the tiny, colorful marshmallows floating around in Morgan’s cereal bowl. Morgan gives her a wide smile as she shovels another spoonful into her mouth. “Wasn’t she supposed to have _this_ cereal only once a week? This one has far too much sugar.”

“I know,” Tony murmurs. “But when I gave her the other one, she looked at me with those wide eyes and you know I can’t resist my baby!” He leans in to hug the toddler firmly, and Morgan giggles.

“You indulge her far too much,” Pepper informs him. “Promise me you’ll give her a healthy snack this afternoon, instead of her usual cookie?”

“Promise,” Tony says, not sounding at all very convincing.

-

“Tony, Morgan went sledding on my shield.”

Tony looks up from his laptop and at Steve, who has appeared in the living room holding his shield. Morgan is standing beside him, her smile wider than ever.

“Had fun, did you?” Tony asks his daughter, cracking a smile and leaning in to wipe some snow off her jacket.

She giggles.

“She’s not supposed to go gallivanting around with my shield. How did she even get into your workshop?”

Tony pulls Morgan into his lap. “I’ll fix the shield, Rogers. They’re just a few scratches.”

“That’s not the point.”

Tony isn’t even listening anymore, bouncing Morgan up and down on his legs and making her squeal with laughter.

Steve grumbles and stomps away.

-

“Tony, Morgan _ate_ my experiment.”

“Excuse me?”

Bruce lays an empty carton box on the kitchen table in front of Tony. “I bought chocolates for my cockroaches, and they are all gone. Found her hiding _this_ under her bed.”

Tony frowns in concern, pushing his chair back a little. “Are they normal chocolates?”

“ _Yes,_ I just needed them to feed to my cockroaches.”

“So my daughter didn’t eat genetically modified cockroach-chocolate?”

“Your daughter is fine!” Bruce snaps. “My experiment is not.”

Tony chuckles now, waving a hand. “Well, you shouldn’t have left them in the fridge. You know what she’s like.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know your daughter had carte blanche to eat everything she could find in this kitchen. Can you tell her not to touch things that don’t belong to her?”

“It’s just chocolate, Bruce. I’ll get you new ones.”

Bruce sighs in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll just take the matter up with Pepper,” he mutters, chagrined.

-

“Tony – I brought you some coffee,”

“Thanks, kid,” Tony says, taking the cup from Peter and walking with him. “Going patrolling today?”

“My homework is almost done, I’ll go out after.”

They enter the living room. Peter sucks in a breath and comes to a full stop at the sight before him.

Morgan has apparently decided to do some drawing. But not anywhere; no, she has taken a blue marker and is enthusiastically cross-crossing all over Peter’s science homework that he left on the table.

“Morgan!” Tony booms. “Stop that right now!”

She freezes, looking up at him with wide eyes, clenching her tiny fist around the blue marker.

“Crap,” Peter mutters, stepping forward and assessing the damage. He’ll definitely have to draw all those graphs again. But he can still make out most of his previous workings, so it won’t take _that_ long.

“Morgan, that was very naughty,” Tony chastises firmly. “You cannot draw on other people’s work, do you hear me? Now Peter has to start from the beginning. That’s not nice, is it?”

“No…?” Morgan says, her bottom lip quivering.

“What do you say to Peter, then?”

“Sorry, Peter,” Morgan mumbles, hiding the blue marker behind her back and hanging her head.

“It’s okay!” Peter promises, lifting her up in his arms and hugging her close. “You didn’t do it on purpose.”

Morgan wraps her arms around his neck, giggling again.

“You spoil her,” Tony tells Peter.

Peter only smiles with an innocent shrug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear everyone,  
> we are slowly coming to the end of the list of prompts, and that seems like good timing. I have a handful of prompts left (I really hope I didn't miss any!) that I will finish over the next few weeks. I know a lot of countries still have a long way to go with 'flattening the curve', but some other countries (including mine) are slowly opening up again. Of course, it might be years before we are completely back to normal, but either way... it seems like a good moment to end this little experiment :-)  
> I hope I helped alleviate a little stress/boredom. Stay safe!


	54. Twenty to one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers knew Tony has a son, and they knew Spider-Man. They just didn’t know they were the same person. [prompt by LaLouisaBlack]
> 
> (tag: Tony as Peter’s Bio Father)

“Why don’t you just invite him over for dinner, Tony?”

Peter felt his ears go red. He stoically continued to shovel cereal into his mouth, not looking up at anyone.

Almost a year. He had known Tony for almost a year now and, as far as Peter was concerned, their current arrangement was perfectly fine. The other Avengers just knew him as Spider-Man, rather than ‘Spider-Man, Tony Stark’s illegitimate son who grew up not knowing who his father was but might now be the next heir to Stark Industries’. He didn’t need that kind of pressure when he was only just getting to know his father.

Tony had never pressed the matter at first. But over the last few weeks, more and more often, Tony had broached the subject of maybe, possibly, telling the team who Peter really was. Peter had been reluctant. So Tony had suggested that he simply let the Avengers know that he _had_ a teenage son, without revealing who exactly it was. Then, they could see how everyone would react to it, and go from there. And Peter, in all his stupidity, had agreed to that. Something he now bitterly regretted, because the Avengers just wouldn’t _let. it. go._ It was the only thing they had talked about all week.

“Steve, I’ll let you know when he’s ready to come over,” Tony calmly responded.

From across the table, Steve gave Tony an assessing stare. Tony hadn’t told them too much about his son – not even a name – but Steve hadn’t forgotten the way Tony’s eyes had lit up when he told the whole team the news last week. “I know you want to spend time with him, Tony. We won’t get in your way,” he emphasized.

He caught Tony glancing somewhat apprehensively at Peter. The kid was scowling at his cereal as if it had personally offended him. Steve pressed his lips together. It was clear that Tony was concerned about how Peter would respond to meeting his son. And not without reason: whenever the topic was brought up, Peter turned grumpy and snarky.

Well, if Tony wasn’t going to bring it up, then Steve would.

-

He found Peter sitting alone on the balcony later that morning. Peter was doing his homework, squinting against the light that bounced back from the white paper as he drew a graph with a pencil. It was a warm, sunny day with only a few fluffy clouds. Not that it mattered: the kid nearly always did his homework on the balcony, even when it was cold. _Even_ when it was raining; he would just sit under the canopy. Thankfully, that was not the case today.

Steve sauntered to the table, making sure to act casual as he greeted Peter and sat down. “Lots of homework?”

“Yeah,” Peter murmured. “But it’s an interesting topic, so I don’t mind.”

“You know, if we can convince Tony to bring his son to the tower, you and he could study together,” Steve suggested. “I believe he’s about your age.”

Peter didn’t respond, but he did suddenly press his pencil against the paper a lot harder as he filled in his graph with stiff motions.

“Don’t you want to meet this kid?” Steve prodded.

“No.”

“Wouldn’t it be fun to have someone to hang out with?”

“No.”

Steve sighed. He understood Peter’s reluctance. Tony was obviously a father figure to him, and the idea of having to share Tony with someone else clearly didn’t exactly appeal to Peter.

“Why do you even want to meet him?” Peter muttered. “Just so you have something new to gossip about?”

“We don’t gossip about Stark.”

“Yeah, you do, all the time,” Peter shot back, his voice getting louder. “Clint was trying to set up a betting pool on what his son would be like. Ten to one that he’s into AC/DC, twenty to one that he already has a goatee!” His graph was by now just a mess of dark lines.

Steve leaned in and put his hand on Peter’s, stilling his movements before Peter could ruin his whole homework assignment. “Well, that’s Clint. It’s all in jest. And if you’ll remember; we told him to knock that off.”

“What _do_ you want, then?”

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. How could he explain this? “It’s not about us,” he said. “Tony has been separated from this kid for years. Now he has found out he has a son, and he can’t even spend enough time with the kid, because he doesn’t want us to know who it is. Which is kind of ridiculous because… well, it’s _us_. Don’t you think it would be fair if Tony got to bring his own son to the tower to spend more time with him?”

Peter merely shrugged, clearly not really knowing how to respond to that.

“It won’t mean that Tony will stop spending time with _you,_ ” Steve assured him, because he simply knew that that would never happen. Tony was far too fond of Peter.

“Do you think I’m _jealous_?” Peter asked, looking scandalized.

Steve felt the corners of his mouth twitch. “Of course not.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at him.

“You weren’t there when Tony told us about him,” Steve said. “You should have seen the way he was smiling. He clearly loves his son a lot. It’s not fair that he shouldn’t get to spend time with him.”

Peter, for some reason, had turned a little red. “I guess.”

“It would be really nice if you would tell Tony that you’re okay with his son coming here,” Steve pressed, “because I have a feeling Tony is worried about your reaction.”

Peter folded his hands together, shifting in his seat for a while as he clearly struggled for words. “Can I tell you something?” He asked.

“Sure.”

“But you can’t tell anyone else, yet!” The kid fervently added.

Steve blinked, a little thrown. He hadn’t expected some sort of big secret. “Not even Tony?”

Peter smiled a little, then. “No, you can tell Tony.”

“All right.”

“I’m Tony’s son.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“It’s me. I’m Tony’s son. I just didn’t want him telling people, because I’m nervous about people knowing,” Peter explained, nervously rubbing his hands together. “How do you think they’ll react?”

Steve just gaped at him.

“I’m not kidding,” Peter said, his eyes dancing around Steve’s face.

Steve needed a few seconds longer to process the news, as a hundred puzzle pieces suddenly fell into place. Then, he felt a smile break through on his face. “That’s… That’s so great!”

Peter looked relieved.

-

“Hey, listen! I got a new one,” Clint said, when he spotted Steve and Peter enter the living area. “I’ll give you twenty to one odds for guessing the first letter of his name.”

Sam chuckled, but Steve immediately puffed up “Clint! Didn’t we tell you to stop that nonsense?”

“I’d like to get in on that,” Peter softly broke in.

Both Steve and Clint froze and looked at Peter. “What?”

“Twenty to one that his name starts with P?” Peter suggested, pulling out a dollar bill.

“All right, now we’re talking,” Clint grinned, pulling out a piece of paper and starting to scribble on it. “Sam?”

“Fine. I’ll take the T,” Sam said. “Like his old man.”

“Steve, what about you?”

Steve looked torn for a moment. But then, he reached for his wallet. “How’s fifty to one that his first and last name start with the same letter?”


	55. The rum is gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is one of those quite different ones. An Avengers x Pirates of the Caribbean crossover. [prompt by Ratusoze Loki]  
> This story won’t make much sense if you haven’t seen Pirates of the Caribbean.  
> (tag: AU/crossover, adult!Peter)

“I know why you’re here, miss Jones,” Tony slowly said as he lifted his head to look at the young lady who had just entered the tavern.

“Good,” Michelle said, depositing a small bag of golden coins on the wooden table between them. “That means I don’t have to waste any of our time. How much do you want?”

“How much do I want for chasing down your kidnapped boyfriend?” Tony clarified. He had heard all about these pirates taking Mr. Parker captive. Captain Rogers had been throwing some very public hissy-fits about it all week. But there wasn’t much Rogers could actually do to trace down a cursed ship with an unknown destination. It didn’t come as a surprise to Tony that Jones now turned to him for help.

“You are familiar with the Black Pearl, yes?” She asked.

“Heard of it.”

“You know where it is heading.”

“Isla de Muerta,” Tony confirmed. “To break the curse.”

“So. How much?”

“I don’t want your gold, miss Jones,” Tony said, leaning in. “I want a good bottle of rum. And a ship.”

Michelle merely smirked. “Which ship?”

-

Steve blinked a few times, rubbing his temples in an attempt to quell an oncoming headache. He had been fruitlessly staring at his most detailed map all morning, wrecking his brain to try and figure out where the Black Pearl might be heading.

He heard footsteps marching down the marble hallways, and a moment later, two nervous looking soldiers enter the room, saluting him.

“Any news?” Steve asked, hopeful. Perhaps the Black Pearl had been sighted. It would make sense if they returned with a demand for ransom, why else would they take Mr. Parker with them?

“In a way,” one of the soldiers said hesitantly. “Stark just took off with the interceptor.”

Steve rose from his seat, folding his arms across his chest as he glowered at his men. He shouldn’t be surprised. Tony Stark had been making trouble in his village for years now, moving from tavern to tavern with his contraband goods. Steve had never managed to catch him in the act, though. The man was bordering on insanity, but clever at the same time. “Explain to me how he managed to sail even a single knot all by himself?”

“We already had the ship ready to sail out when he snuck on board,” the soldier said, still looking wary. “And… he wasn’t alone. There was a young lady with him.”

Steve sighed. Damnit, Michelle Jones. She had been impatient, and Steve had warned her again and again not to act rash. Did she really think _Stark_ of all people would be able to get Peter back from a ship full of pirates?

Poor Peter. The young man had to be very scared.

-

“Is anyone going to get me a cup of tea? How hard is it to boil some water?”

Captain Barbossa gnashed his teeth together. “Mr. Jones, need I remind you that you are our prisoner?”

“Yeah, well, you need my blood,” Peter drawled, leaning back in his chair and lifting both feet to put them on the table. “Being the great-grandchild of Davy Jones, and all. So stop complaining and get me my tea.”

Barbarossa grumbled under his breath as he stomped out of the room.

Peter grinned. That man was going to be _so_ annoyed when he found out he didn’t need Peter’s blood at all. He knew that Michelle was probably doing everything in her power to track him down, but he half-hoped that she wouldn’t find him. He needed to get out of this mess by himself. The last thing he wanted was for these pirates to find out that they really needed _her_ blood, instead.

As for his escape plan… well… he was working on that. Something with turtles, maybe.

-

The cave looked exactly how Peter had always imagined a pirates’ den would look. Piles of gold, jewels, the finest china. The result of years and years of hoarding treasure.

And of course the large chest full of medallions right under Peter’s nose. Vibrant gold, mixed with a few droplets of Peter’s blood.

“It didn’t work!” One of the crewman hollered. “The curse is still upon us!”

Barbossa looked down at the chest full of medallions, at the knife in his hand, and at the fresh cut in Peter’s arm. Then, he looked straight at Peter, gripping him tightly. “What is your name?” He hissed. “Is it Peter Jones? Was your great-grandfather Davey Jones?”

Peter grinned. “Nope.”

With a snarl, Barbossa shoved him away. Peter tumbled to the floor, knocking over a statue as he went. He gingerly pushed himself to his knees, looking on as the pirates begin arguing.

“You brought us the wrong person!”

“How was I supposed to know? He said his name was Jones!”

“Oh yes, and that’s _only_ the third most common surname in these lands, is it?”

Suddenly, Peter spotted a movement in the shadow. Near one of the dark passages towards the entrance of the cave, Michelle was kneeling next to a large rock. She beckoned him. She had come after him. Of course she had.

Peter threw another furtive glance at Barbossa – the man was in a heated debate with his first mate, and not paying the least bit of attention to Peter. Carefully, Peter crouched forward, keeping his head down, until he reached Michelle. Only then he noticed a second person with her – someone who Peter knew only vaguely. “Tony Stark? What are you doing here?”

“We’re rescuing you,” Tony informed him, throwing a glance at the pirates who had now broken into swordfights, still yelling profanities and accusations at each other. “And we’re doing a pretty good job.”

-

The Interceptor rocked gently on the tidal waves as strong arms helped the trio climb back on board.

“Meet our crew,” Michelle said, a little out of breath, waving a hand around. “Natasha, our first mate, and..”

“Introductions later!” Tony broke through. “We have a ship to commandeer! Come on, crew, let’s get that black pearl!”

Michelle turned to stare at him, then glanced past him at the dark ship lurking in the shadows of the tall, rocky cliffs around them. “The black pearl? You want to take _that_ ship?”

“Of course! The ship of legends, up for grabs.”

“We’d have to leave the interceptor behind,” Natasha pointed out, pushing her large hat up a little so her eyes became visible. “We only have a large enough crew for one ship.”

“Sod the Interceptor. The Black Pearl is faster. Do you want those pirates to catch up to us half-way home?”

“Fair point,” Michelle said. “But I’m not leaving this ship for _them_ to take it. We must move quickly. Everything we can carry over to the Black Pearl! We’re burning this ship down!”

-

A fast ship it was, indeed. Even with barely any wind, the Black Pearl glided through the endless ocean as though it was being pulled forward by an army of sharks.

“Land ahead!”

Peter approached the stern, squinting at the tiny island in the distance. “You can barely call that ‘land’. We won’t find anything of value there. I say we sail on.”

“No, no!” Tony broke in, his eyes a little wide as he stared straight at the tiny island. “We _definitely_ need to drop anchor here.”

“Why? What could we possibly find there?”

Tony clearly needed a second to come up with an answer. “Coconuts!”

-

They dropped the anchor and made their way to the tiny island in small rowing boats. As some crew members set out to find anything worth eating, Peter and Michelle built a small campfire.

Tony clearly had other plans, slinking away from the group and disappearing behind a low hill. But not long after, a wail of despair rang through the air. Peter and Michelle instantly dropped the firewood they were holding, and both sprinted towards the sound. When they rounded the small hill, they spotted Tony sitting on his knees, pounding the sand with his fists. Next to him, an opened hatch revealed a hidden hole in the ground.

“Stark! What?’

“The rum!” Tony wailed, pointing at the cellar below the hatch. “All the rum is gone!”

Michelle stepped closer and peered down the hatch. It was clearly an abandoned cellar, quite possibly the work of smugglers. It was now empty; nothing but a few shards of glass scattered across the floor. “You’ve been here before, I gather?” She asked Tony.

“It’s all gone!”

Peter patted Tony on the shoulder. “C’mon, Stark. when we make it back home, I’ll buy you a bottle of rum. You helped rescue me after all.”

Somewhat mollified, Tony trudged back towards the campsite with them.

Natasha was waiting for them next to the fire. “Look!” She said as soon as they were close enough, pointing towards the horizon.

In the far distance, the white sails of a ship were visible, creeping along the horizon.

“Is it the pirates? Did they find another ship?”

Tony pulled out his monocular and squinted at the tiny ship in the distance, humming. “No, that looks like a navy ship. And it’s not moving towards us, it’s moving west.”

“Perhaps it’s Captain Rogers,” Michelle said, her face lighting up. “I’m sure he is scouring these waters for us. We should build a larger fire to signal our location.”

“I don’t see the point in that,” Tony immediately protested. “We have our own ship after all. We don’t need _him_ for anything. He already threatened to lock me in his prison tower on four separate occasions, and I don’t think stealing his ship will have done my reputation any good.”

“But we need to warn him. What if he runs straight into those pirates?”

“Those pirates won’t care about some navy ship,” Tony murmured. “They’re only coming for the Black Pearl. They’ll always come back for it as long as the curse is not broken. The ship calls out to them. They are bound to it.”

Peter felt a shiver down his spine. He had heard the legend, but to hear it straight from the mouth of Tony Stark was another story.

“Let me get this straight,” Michelle said, planting her hands on her hips. “You suggested that we ditch a perfectly good ship in favor of a cursed one that will be eternally pursued by undead pirates?”

“And a monkey,” Tony confirmed.

“Let’s blow it up,” Michelle said, narrowing her eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Let’s blow the ship up. I saw gunpowder below deck.”

“You will _not_ ,” Tony protested, “be blowing up MY ship! Have you lost your mind?”

“Two birds with one stone,” Michelle said, pointing at the white sails still visible at the far horizon. “Captain Rogers will see the smoke and come for us. _And_ we’ll have destroyed that cursed ship, finally ridding our waters of the threat of the Black Pearl.”

“Okay – number one, I do _not_ need a Captain Rogers rescuing me,” Tony informed her snootily. “And number two, you promised me a ship!”

“I promised you the Interceptor! _You_ then chose to leave it behind. I did _not_ promise you the SS Eternal Damnation!”

“The Black Pearl is the most legendary ship in the world, and you’re suggesting we– Romanoff, what are you doing?’

“Blowing up the ship!” Natasha yelled back, fervently paddling away in one of the small rowing boats.

-

One enormous explosion later, Tony’s mood had reached an all-time low.

“No ship,” he lamented, lying on his back in the sand and staring up at the sky. “No rum. What’s the point of anything anymore?”

“The navy ship is moving our way,” Michelle tersely informed the crew, as she steadily gazed at the horizon.

They all stood there, silently, gazing out towards the open sea. Waiting for the tiny ship to, slowly, creep closer and closer. All except for Tony, who sulked next to their fire.

The navy ship dropped anchor when it was close enough, and Peter recognized the distinct profile of Captain Rogers stepping into one of the rowing boats to make his way to shore.

“The Black Pearl,” Steve breathed once he reached them, gazing at the wreckage that was washing onto the island’s shores. “The Black Pearl – destroyed. How did you manage to do that?”

“Tony Stark helped,” Peter quickly pointed out. “And he saved me.”

Steve looked down at Tony, who was still lying on his back in the sand, a mulish expression on his face. “Mr. Stark. I suppose we owe you a great debt, then. May I escort you back home?”

“Yes, please,” Michelle firmly said, grasping Peter by the hand and marching straight towards one of the rowing boats. Their crew followed swiftly.

“Hang on,” Peter said, when he saw that Tony made no move to get up. “Just hang on.”

He trudged back through the dry sand, halting next to Tony.

“I’m _not_ getting on a boat with him,” Tony tersely informed Peter before he could even open his mouth.

“All right,” Peter said. “But you do understand that the alternative is that you stay all alone on this pile of sand, with no rum?”

Tony seemed to be considering his options for a moment. “Well, all right,” he then agreed, sitting up and dusting some sand of his clothes. “I suppose being around Rogers can be tolerable. As long as there’s rum.”

“I promise you, I will ensure that you get all the rum you could ever want,” Peter promised.

“Well then,” Tony said, getting to his feet. “Drink up me hearties, yo ho!”


	56. third time's a charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel to the chapter 'zoom-zoom'. Tony brings an injured Spider-Man back to his tower, and discovers this isn’t the first time he has gotten this kid out of a jam. [prompt by EmilyWeaslette]

“Just take a seat over there, kid.”

Tony supported Peter to the edge of the bathtub and sat him down, closing the lid of the toilet to sit on top of that, himself.

Spider-Man had sustained a pretty serious cut on his arm during today’s chaos, and even though he had insisted that he was ‘totally fine, really, Mr. Stark’, Tony had refused to just let him swing back home. It was Spider-Man’s first time at the tower, and Tony could tell that he didn’t feel entirely at ease yet.

He looked up at the red ski mask with goggles that the kid referred to as ‘his mask’. He needed to be sure not to make fun of the kid _too_ much. “How about you take that mask off first?”

“Uuhhhh,” was the reply.

“I already know who you are, Mr. Parker from 20 Ingram street.”

Peter released a long breath, before lifting his non-injured arm and pulling off his mask, revealing a youthful face and brown hair sticking up in all directions. “How’d you know who I am?”

“I’m Iron-Man,” Tony merely told him, leaning in to scrutinize the scrape on Peter’s chin. It looked like it was already closing up. Clearly, the kid had some form of enhanced healing. Tony had suspected as much, based on all the video footage he had seen of the kid so far. “All right, that looks fine. Let’s have a look at that arm, then.”

Peter carefully rolled up his sleeve, hissing as he brushed past the deep cut on his lower arm. It was a nasty cut, but it could have been much, much worse. 

“It’ll be gone by tomorrow, Mr. Stark, really, you don’t have to bother,” Peter murmured.

“You really shouldn’t be ‘super-hero-ing’ in this onesie,” Tony merely said in response. “It is not protecting you at all. You might as well be swinging around the city naked.’

Peter let out a slight laugh.

“I’m not joking,” Tony said. “You’re in dire need of an upgrade. I won’t always be around to prevent you from getting killed, like I did today.”

“Yeah. Thanks for that, sir,” Peter murmured sheepishly. “I didn’t notice the guy coming at me.”

“Uhuh,” Tony said, opening a drawer and starting to rummage around for disinfectant and a clean bandage.

“But I can’t exactly build a super-suit like you, Mr. Stark,” the kid carried on. “I’m just some kid from Queens. I… I can’t even sow properly. Look – I wanted to put on this Spider logo, but the legs keep coming loose,” he picked at the seams around the logo on his chest. “Anyway. That’s three times you’ve saved me. But I guess you know about _that_ too, since you know everything.”

“Hold out your arm,” Tony ordered. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you don’t know? Well, the last time was when I was eight, and I went to your Stark Expo because I was obsessed with your work,” Peter revealed with a smile. “I don’t need to tell you what happened there.”

“Attack of the killer bots,” Tony confirmed, starting to carefully dab at the deep cut in Peter’s arm.

Peter hissed quietly at the sting. “Right,” he then murmured. “And I fancied myself a little Iron-Man junior. I had just bought an Iron Man helmet at the Expo, and wasn’t planning on taking it off any time soon. So when one of the drones landed in front of me, my dumb eight-year old brain was like; ‘I have an Iron-Man helmet, I can totally take him’.”

“I think I remember,” Tony said slowly, putting the disinfectant away and reaching for a clean bandage. “You were an inch away from getting disintegrated when I blasted that drone away.”

Peter nodded. “So thanks for that, too.”

Tony secured the bandage and then leaned back in his seat. “What about the time before that?” He enquired.

“I don’t remember this, but my parents told me about it,” Peter murmured, carefully running his fingers along the edges of the bandage. “Dad was out for a walk with me when a giant lizard attacked the city. He was knocked unconscious, and when he woke up, he was in the hospital and I was nowhere around. He called his brother – my uncle – to go out and look for me. And then Ben found _you_ carrying me around the streets.”

“That was – wait…” Tony frowned as he dug up the memory. “Are you the baby who referred to me as zoom-zoom? Wilson still calls me that every now and then.”

Peter chuckled.

Tony turned to put the bandages away, shutting the drawer. It was a strange idea that the man who he had met on the streets that day was the same Ben Parker whom Peter had moved in with years ago. And even stranger to think that that man wasn’t alive anymore. “He seemed like a good guy. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Peter looked up at his, a little startled, then looked down at his hands again. “Right. So you know about that, too. Well, I suppose this is a recurring event. Every seven years, you save my life.”

“Let’s agree that, seven years from now, it’ll be your turn to rescue me,” Tony countered.

Peter smiled. “Do you… remember what he was like?” He then tentatively asked.

Tony felt his stomach clench a little. He wasn’t very good at this sort of stuff. “Worried about you,” he said. “He didn’t even look at me for the first ten minutes. He only had eyes for you.” He didn’t really know what else to say.

Peter smiled. “Thanks,” he murmured, slowly pulling his sleeve down again and reaching for his mask. “I guess I’ll… get out of your hair then.”

“Would you mind if I made you a new suit?” Tony asked bluntly.

Peter blinked. “Would I _mind_ if you…?”

“Something more flexible. But with stronger fibers. Preferably with its own AI.”

Peter clenched his fists around his mask, shifting back and forth on the edge of the tub. “I… I don’t have any money.”

Tony waved a hand. “Don’t be ridiculous, kid, you think I’m going to charge you? We can make it together if you want. I know you have an aptitude for this stuff.”

“I…” Peter floundered. “That’s… I mean… Are you sure…? I don’t…”

“How’s this weekend? I can have you picked up around eleven-ish. I’ll take care of lunch. Just bring your brains.”

It stayed silent for a moment. “Okay,” Peter then said, a little breathlessly. “Thanks. Thank you, mister Stark.”

“No, thank _you_ , Mister Parker. Now, skedaddle.”


	57. Broken heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter gets his heart broken for the first time at a very unfortunate moment. Or maybe not so much. [prompts by KendraDhyanna & Bookworm]  
> (tags: angst, angst, angst. Also, Peter as Tony & Pepper’s biological child)

Pepper feels like she has run a marathon. The past few days have been exhausting.

She and Tony had always considered themselves lucky. Teenagers were supposedly a nightmare for any parent to deal with. But Peter had never kept them up at night. He didn’t like to party, he didn’t like to go out and get drunk, he never skipped school. He had never caused any kind of major trouble.

And then one morning Tony discovered that their son had a secret alter-ego and spent his days swinging around the streets of New York, fighting gunmen, and _all hell broke lose_.

They had yelled at each other until their throats were raw and sore. Tony had taken Peter’s suit and the web shooters. And Pepper had taken Peter’s phone and laptop. Because they really didn’t know _what_ to do about this, and it was a ‘better safe than sorry’ scenario. And they had told Peter that they needed to discuss this very, _very_ thoroughly before they could make any kind of decision on where to go from here. Tony and Pepper had spent hours, _hours_ talking already, and still hadn’t figured out how the hell they should deal with this.

And then they had packed their bags and gone on the vacation to Mexico that they had booked half a year ago. Because they didn’t want to let this disrupt their family holiday.

So now, here they are, in a lovely cottage on the edge of a lovely little town, with one absolutely furious teen who refuses to talk about _anything_ right now, and only throws them dark looks whenever they try to engage him.

“We want to visit a nearby village,” Pepper suggests over breakfast. “They have a very old church, and there’s a market today.”

“Boring.”

“If you’re only going to spend the whole day sulking, we’d prefer that you just stay at home,” Pepper warns him.

“Oh, sure,” Peter sneers. “Just be careful. Pretty sure dad can’t even step into a church without bursting into flames.”

“Petey, come with us?” Morgan pleads, looking up at Peter with wide eyes.

“Yeah, no thanks,” Peter snaps, picking up his bowl of cereal and moving towards the terrace door, stepping out and snapping the door shut behind him.

Morgan’s bottom lip is trembling.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Pepper tells her, clearing away the bowls and putting them in the sink. “We’ll have fun. I bet they have really good ice cream down there.” She returns to the table and runs a hand through Morgan’s long hair. “Go find your shoes, and we’ll leave soon, all right?”

She nods, leaving the table and disappearing up the stairs.

Pepper now turns to Tony, who is staring at the tabletop, clenching his spoon. “Tony?”

“We should have postponed this whole trip,” Tony mutters.

“Well, we’re here now. Too late to back out. Please try to keep things relaxed, for Morgan’s sake?”

Tony gives a jerky nod, laying the spoon down and standing up. “Sure. Let me _inform_ Peter that we’re leaving.”

Pepper sighs and begins to gather her stuff. Car keys, a map of the village… She tries to ignore that Tony has once again entered into a shouting match (“..and you’re ruining this holiday for Morgan too, which you’d realize if you stopped to think about _anyone_ other than yourself for _one_ minute!”) that Peter has _no_ problem matching (“..trust me, this holiday was ruined the minute you decided to book a cottage in pueblo del lame-o!”).

Thankfully, Tony steps back inside before Morgan has come down. “So, Peter has elected to stay home,” he says, stiffly.

“That much is clear, yes.”

-

Tony feels like there is a tiny steam engine somewhere in his chest just constantly fueling his anger. He does his best not to let it show too much in front of Morgan. He is still beyond furious at Peter for hiding something this big, this dangerous from them. And he still has no idea how to actually deal with now that it has come out. That is the whole problem; how can they hope to work things out when they don’t even know where they want to go from here? It’s not as if they can command Peter to stop having radio-active blood.

Tony knows Pepper is having the same thoughts and doubts, judging by how quiet she has been all day. Morgan, on the other hand, has cheered up considerably from their little trip today. She wasn’t all that interested in the neo-gothic church interior, but the abundance of ice cream shops certainly pleased her.

“Shall we go to that cozy restaurant we spotted on the way for dinner?” Pepper suggests, dragging a hand through her hair. She looks tired and Tony inexplicably feels guilty. He almost suggest that they just go home, instead. Go home, and send Morgan down to Natasha’s room, and then _talk_ about this.

“Is Peter coming?” Morgan asks, and Tony focusses on her hopeful eyes, instead.

“I’ll go see,” he mutters.

He moves upstairs and knocks on Peter’s door.

“ _What?_ ”

Tony rolls his eyes and opens the door. Peter has never been this defiant. At least not for this many days in a row. Usually he can only stand to be angry at Tony for about an hour before he changes his mind and decides to just hug him instead.

That’s not going to happen this time, that much is clear. “We’re going out for dinner tonight. Are you coming _?_ ”

Peter doesn’t look up from his book. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, _sir_ ,” Peter says, mockingly. “I met a nice girl today, and I’m taking her out on a date tonight.”

“You’d rather be with some girl than you family, then?”

“Right now? Yes. In fact, I think I’ll move in with her.”

Tony slams the door shut and stomps downstairs. Peter’s first time going on a date. This should have been a moment for him, as a father, to be excited about. Peter has always been quite shy and awkward, and has _never_ attempted to get a girl’s attention.

“Let’s just go,” he growls once he has reached the living room.

Morgan’s bottom lip is trembling again.

-

Peter feels like he has been punched in the stomach a few times.

The first time in his life a girl shows interest in him, and it blows up in his face. He is _never ever_ going on another date again. He hasn’t felt this humiliated since… well, whatever the last thing was that Flash did.

He opens the wooden gate and steps into the back garden of their little cottage. The lights in the living room are on and Peter hears Morgan laughing from inside.

At least she’s having a good time. It’s not fair to her that their vacation gets ruined by all this crap.

Peter sits on the edge of the wooden terrace, his back turned to the house.

When Ciara had asked him out on a date this morning, Peter had thought it was a little annoying how much her friends were giggling behind her. But he figured some girls just do that. But half-way through their date tonight Ciara had come clean about only going on a date with him because her friends had bet her _100 stupid pesos_ that she wouldn’t do it.

So, apparently, girls will only go out with him as a joke.

Peter pulls his knees up, wrapping his arms around them. He wants to talk to his mom and dad, but after yelling at them for three days straight, he doesn’t really know how to.

“Psst!”

Peter turns his head to see Morgan peeking at him through the half-open door. “Hey Morgan,” he murmurs. “How was dinner?”

“I had more ice cream,” she says, stepping outside, a piece of paper in hand. “And I made you something.” She shuffles closer and pushes the piece of paper into his hand.

It’s a drawing of Spider-Man. On the back of a restaurant menu.

“I bet mom and dad didn’t like that,” Peter murmurs.

“Mom helped,” Morgan says.

“Oh,” Peter says, not sure what to do with that information.

“I think Spider-Man is really cool,” Morgan tells him. “He’s the coolest superhero.”

“Thanks, Morgan,” Peter whispers, his throat inexplicably tight.

“How was your _daaaate_?”

“Really fucking terrible.”

“Are you crying?”

“No – piss off.”

“I’ll get mom or dad.”

“No, don’t-“

But Morgan already runs off.

Peter leans his forehead on his knees. He doesn’t really want either of his parents to come out and talk to him. Because then he’ll have to talk about everything else that’s going on, and he really doesn’t have the energy for that right now.

Another part of him, though, is afraid that his parents are so mad right now that they won’t even _want_ to come out and talk to him. So when he hears his father’s heavy footsteps on the wooden boards, he’s not really sure if he should be relieved or anxious.

Tony doesn’t even ask him anything, though. He just sits down and wraps his arms around Peter. Peter blinks at the surprise of the sudden hug, but then carefully rests his forehead down on his dad’s shoulder. And in that moment, it hits him like a ton of bricks how much he has missed just sitting with his dad like this, and the tears start spilling over. “I d-don’t want to f-fight anymore,” he blubbers.

Tony gently cards a hand through Peter’s brown locks. “None of us _want_ to fight, Pete. But we do have to work through this. And that’s not going to be easy. But we _will_ work through it in the end, I can promise you that much.”

Peter takes in a deep breath in, leaning all of his weight onto his dad. “I’m too t-tired to think about this right now.”

“All right,” Tony says, surprisingly easy-going. “How was your date?”

“S-she said she was d-dared by her friends to go out with me. She doesn’t even actually l-like me.”

“Oh, kid,” Tony murmurs, gripping him tighter. “I’m sorry. That’s not great for the ol’ self-esteem, huh?”

“It’s karma I s-suppose…” Peter sniffles.

“That’s ridiculous, you didn’t _deserve_ this.”

“But you’re really m-mad at me.”

“Well, yeah,” Tony says, leaning his cheek on top of Peter’s hair. “But that has nothing to do with it. You know, that girl probably didn’t even realize that she might be hurting your feeling. Teenagers do dumb shit all the time, especially when their friends _dare_ them to do it. Either way, I hope you ditched her on the spot and left her with the bill?”

“Kinda. She’d already offered to pay anyways.”

“All right,” Tony reasons. “So she probably already realized she was being an asshole.”

“Maybe.”

Tony lifts his head and leans back a little. “Come on, kid. You need a nice glass of lemonade and a whole bucketload of chocolate. Morgan, Pepper and I have just started a game of monopoly.”

“I’m really tired.”

“You can just watch. Just sit with us, please?”

“Okay…” Peter mumbles, because that actually sounds kind of nice.

And Tony leads Peter inside, where Peter curls up on the couch and just forgets for a moment all the things he was angry about.

-

“All right. Here is the list, kid. Number one: finding lost pets. Number two: helping people to carry heavy things. Number three: helping the elderly. Number four: …”

Peter perks up. “Helping the elderly?”

“Which does _not_ include saving them from burning buildings.”

Peter sags in his chair. “Oh.”

The four of them are gathered around the table in Stark Tower’s living area. Morgan is busy making another Spider-Man drawing while the three of them finish off their negotiations.

“Number four, helping crying kids find their parents. Pepper… did I miss anything?”

“Picking up litter?” She suggests as she stirs her tea.

“Good one,” Tony says, scribbling it down on the list in front of him.

Peter rolls his eyes.

“All right, that concludes the list of things you’re allowed to do _without_ requesting our explicit permission.”

“Can we move this along?” Peter says. “I have a date.”

“I’m sure Miss Jones can bear to miss you for another five minutes. Time for a pop quiz. You find a stolen car just parked in the street, what do you do?”

“Call you.”

“You hear a fire-alarm going off. What do you do?”

“Call you.”

“You see someone stealing a bike. What do you do?”

“Follow him,” Peter says, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling.

“And?”

“And call you.”

“You discover someone-“

“Tony,” Pepper breaks in with a smile. “I think he gets it. How about we let him go meet MJ now?”

Tony lays his pen down with a slight huff. “Fine. Go gaze into her eyes.”

“Thank you!” Peter exclaims, jumping up and hugging Pepper and Tony at the same time. “I love youseeyoulaterBYE!”

And he’s gone.

Tony leans in to pat Morgan on the head. “Are you going to draw Iron-Man after this one?”

“No,” she says. “Spider-Man again. Spider-Man is cooler.”


	58. One thousand percent prepared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Pepper are expecting their first child. And Peter is 1000% prepared for it [prompt by Jenhiddles. I took some liberties, though]

“Do you want to see the sonogram pictures?”

Peter’s eyes light up and he nods fervently.

Tony digs through his bag and pulls out the sonogram pictures. He and Pepper went to the hospital yesterday. She is two months along in her pregnancy and everything is looking good. Could it be that something is going right in Tony’s life for once?

“It’s like a little peanut!” Peter coos as he holds the sonogram up against the light.

“You can see it, then?”

“Of course. I googled loads of pictures of sonograms already, so I know where to look.”

“Right,” Tony replies with a smile. Peter has been vigorously researching everything pregnancy-related since the first moment Tony and Pepper told them they were going to have a baby.

Peter is looking at the pictures with a strange sort of determined expression on his face. The kind of expression he gets when they watch the news and hear reports of another violent mugging in the city. Tony has a feeling their future baby has gained another superhero protector.

-

Tony always knew that Peter had a tendency to feel responsible for everything and anything. The full extent of that becomes even more clear to him one evening five months later, when he and Pepper are driving home from a tech expo, with Peter in the backseat.

“Tony...” Pepper suddenly says in a strange voice, and Tony glances to the side.

“The baby?” He asks when he sees her expression.

“I felt something a few minutes ago, but now I definitely feel something – oh – aaoow!”

“Did your water break?” Tony asks.

“I don’t - - think so - - aaaooohh…”

Peter bounces up and down in his seat; “Tony, pull over! I put clean towels in the trunk, and I can call an ambulance.”

“Honey - - relax,” Pepper manages in between puffs. “It’s probably - - false labor.”

“We’ll drive by the hospital to be safe, all right?” Tony says, glancing in the rearview mirror and turning on his indicator.

-

The hospital waiting room is relatively quiet. Tony leans back in his chair while Peter fidgets around in the seat next to him.

“Question,” Tony says, staring up at the ceiling. “Why did you put clean towels in the trunk?”

“Because unlike the two of you, I am one thousand percent prepared for this!” Peter snaps.

Tony sits up straighter and turns to him. “Why are you so worried about all this?”

“I dunno,” Peter mutters, more subdued. “No offense, but… it’s _you_.”

“None taken,” Tony says, his lips quirking. “But it’s also Pepper.”

“Yeah, but she’s gonna be the one who has to push another human out of her. You’re gonna have to be the one who stays cool and make sure everything goes smoothly.”

“Are you suggesting,” Tony says in a stern voice, “that there is _any_ possible circumstance in which I would not be ‘cool’?”

Peter wisely doesn’t respond to that. But he has an expression on his face that Tony translates as something like ‘ _you are the most panicky, overreacting adult I have ever met in my live EVER.’_

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” Peter eventually murmurs. “Just feels weird that I want to make sure everything goes well, but I can’t actually _do_ anything. I don’t know. I feel kind of anxious about it, a lot.”

Before Tony can respond to that, a door slides open Pepper shuffles out, carefully putting on her coat. “False labor,” she confirms with a smile.

Tony stands to offer her an arm. “How are you feeling?”

“Perfectly fine. They checked on the baby and she’s as healthy as ever.”

Peter looks relieved.

-

Tony starts giving Peter more frequent updates after that. How today’s visit to the doctor went. How many times the baby kicked today. What strange new cravings Pepper has. He thinks maybe Peter will be less nervous if he’s more in the loop and feels like he knows what is happening.

Until all those messages finally culminate in the final one: _Baby coming. Going to hospital now._

The next few hours go by in a blur. Tony had mentally prepared himself for hours of labor. But Morgan isn’t waiting around. Less than two hours after Pepper’s water broke, Tony can hold his daughter in his arms.

“Are mom and dad here?” Pepper asks.

“No, they’re still driving out. It’ll be another hour at least.”

“Guess I should have pushed slower,” Pepper says, beginning to sob and laugh at the same time, somehow.

Tony pushes her sweaty hair back a little. “Peter is in the waiting room, though.”

“Can he come in?”

“I think so. Let me check with the nurse.”

-

“Oh my god… Oh mt god – a tiny person _actually_ came out of you!”

“Pretty amazing, huh?” Pepper says with a smile as Peter perches on the edge of her bed.

“ _So_ amazing. And she is okay?”

“One hundred percent,” Pepper promises as she rocks the little girl.

“One thousand percent,” Tony corrects with a smirk.

“Do you want to hold her?” Pepper asks.

Peter responds by holding out both arms, and Pepper gently places the baby in them. “Say hello to Peter, Morgan!”

Peter smiles as he gazes down at little Morgan. A short silence, then:

“You did baby-proof the tower, right?”


	59. Nothing but the truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is having some secrets, and Tony knows just how to get him to talk. [prompt by 8salfeti8]  
> (tag: let’s call this… an AU where Dr. Strange can make truth potions :p)

“A little to the left. Mind the step.”

Tony and Bruce carefully shuffled out of the elevator, carrying a large 3D printer between them.

“Next time, spend a few hundred extra bucks and have someone deliver this to your office,” Bruce grumbled. “My shoulder is hurting.”

“And wait an extra day? I don’t think so. I want this baby up and running. Peter is going to be so excited! Set it down over here. Careful – careful…”

They set the heavy printer down.

“FRIDAY, where is Peter?” Tony asked.

“In his room. I do have to report a breach.” FRIDAY informed him.

Bruce straightened himself, massaging his right shoulder. “Are the British attacking?”

“Peter Parker hacked my mainframe this morning, and successfully erased an email from a teacher.”

That was the last thing Tony expected to hear. “His teacher emailed me?”

“Apparently so.”

“And then Pete hacked my account to delete said email?”

“Apparently so.”

“Why?

“In his words: ‘there’s no freaking way Tony should _ever_ read this’.” FRIDAY calmly cited.

“What was the message about?”

“I couldn’t tell you. It has been erased,” FRIDAY replied with the usual irrefutable logic.

“You can’t get it back?”

“I’ve been attempting to do so for the past hours, but I’m afraid Mr. Parker was very thorough in his removal of the message.”

“Why would Peter’s teachers even contact you?” Bruce asked in confusion. “Is that some sort of arrangement between you and May?”

“No,” Tony replied with a deep frown. “I have honestly no idea. I’ve been to a parent-teacher conference or two, but that’s it. If it were anything serious, I assume they would contact his aunt. But if it weren’t important, then why would the kid go out of his way to erase the message?”

Bruce simply shrugged.

“FRIDAY, let the kid know we got out 3D printer and he should come down at once,” Tony ordered.

“Should I give you guys some privacy?” Bruce suggested.

Tony shook his head. “I can’t imagine it’s a big deal.”

Bruce sat down in an armchair, grabbing the book on firefighting he had been reading.

It wasn’t long before Peter’s footsteps echoed down the hallway. Peter sauntered into the room, looking at the printer with interest. “That’s bigger than I thought!”

“Tell me about it,” Bruce muttered, pressing a hand against his shoulder again. “I think I pulled something.”

“Should have asked me to carry it,” Peter said with a grin.

“Good point.”

“So what’ve you been up to while we were out?” Tony asked. His tone was airy, but Bruce recognized the slight edge to his voice.

“Nothing much. Homework and all.”

“Right,” Tony said. “Are you almost done? I’m sure experimenting with a 3D printer is far more interesting than whatever essay you have to write for English class.”

“Or you should read this book about the physical properties of wildfires,” Bruce added, waving his book.

“It’s fine,” Peter said with a tiny frown. “I like my homework.”

Tony made a disbelieving noise. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that.”

“Well it’s true!” Peter replied, sounding strangely defensive. “It’s very… educational.”

Tony squinted at Peter for a few seconds.

“What?”

“What are you up to, kid?” Tony asked. “Something you wanna tell me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why did you hack your way into my inbox to delete an email from your teacher?”

Peter went a little pale, his mouth dropping open. “How did you know?”

“You deleted the message, but not FRIDAY’s memory of you deleting the message. What was in it?”

“Nothing,” Peter muttered. “Not important.”

“Important enough for you to hack my AI.”

Peter crossed his arms, looking away from Tony. “All right, fine. I had a detention and I didn’t want you to know.”

“And why would your teacher email _me_ about that and not your aunt?”

Peter didn’t reply to that.

“I smell bullshit,” Tony accused.

“Prove it,” Peter said, in a voice far more defiant than Tony had ever heard from him.

“That’s not… Listen kid, I’m not your dad or anything. I don’t particularly need to know about your high school drama anyway. Just don’t hack my AI, all right?”

“You know what? I’m going home,” Peter muttered, turning on his heel.

“This isn’t over!” Tony called after him.

-

Tony was a little worried that their argument would keep Peter away from the tower. But Peter returned to the tower the next day at his usual time, although he did seem a little wary when he entered the room.

“Hiya, kid,” Tony told him as he leaned against the kitchen counter, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

“Hey,” Peter muttered, shuffling closer.

“Wanna look at that 3D printer today?”

“Okay…”

“A drink, first?”

“Okay…” Peter repeated, still looking wary.

Tony ignored that for now. “Coffee? Soda?”

“I’ll have tea,” Peter said with a little sniff.

“You’re such a grandma,” Tony told him.

That broke the tension a little, and Peter smiled. “Just because I don’t have your self-destructive tendencies?”

“Coffee isn’t self-destructive,” Tony protested as he turned to pour Peter a cup of tea.

“It is when you have ten cups per day.”

Tony set the drinks down on the table and sat down.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about that whole thing yesterday?” Peter asked, tentatively.

“Just drink your tea.”

Peter sighed, dangling the teabag into his cup.

“How was school?”

“Educational. I learned a lot.” That mildly defensive tone was back.

“You’re using the word ‘educational’ a lot, lately.”

Peter slurped his tea. “I guess.”

“So, what was in that email from your teacher?”

“He wanted you help to convince me to graduate early and go to university next year,” Peter said, before freezing in his seat as if he hadn’t even realized saying that out loud.

“Oh yes,” Tony said, triumphantly. “In case you’re wondering; that tea contains the latest formula of truth potion.”

Peter’s mouth dropped open. “What? That doesn’t exist!”

“It does now. Courtesy of Stephen Strange,” Tony said, whipping out a tiny bottle with a green, see-through liquid.

“That’s completely unethical!” Peter argued, turning red. “You can’t just _do_ that!”

“Oh – and hacking my AI and lying to me about it _isn’t_ unethical?” Tony challenged. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I know you would side with my teacher, and I’m tired over everyone pressuring me over this!” Peter yelled, standing up so fast that his chair almost toppled back.

“Sit down, kid.”

Peter didn’t. “You can’t force me to say things I don’t want to say! That’s just… that’s just messed up!”

“Hey, it’s not like I asked you to reveal your deepest darkest secrets. I just wanted to know what was written in an email that was addressed to me in the first place!”

“I don’t care. That just makes you seem mean. And unprincipled. And nasty. And unreliable. And an asshole! Yeah - telling you the truth _now_ , aren’t I?”

“All right,” Tony said, using his most calming voice. “Tell you what: how is this?” He uncorked the vial and downed the rest of the truth potion in one gulp.

Peter gaped at him, so surprised that he sank bank into his chair. “The hell?”

“If you think that was too mean, here’s your chance to get me back. Now I can’t lie, either. So go ahead. Take a shot.”

Peter shifted in his seat. “I… that’s not…”

“Come on,” Tony cajoled, leaning back in his seat.

Peter opened and closed his mouth a few times, then swallowed. “Okay… When is your birthday?”

“29th of May,” Tony says. “Also: are you freaking kidding me? _That’s_ the best you can do?”

“No! I mean - Well I dunno!” Peter cries out. “I don’t want to ask anything uncomfortable.”

“Oh, go on. Ask me something embarrassing.”

“Okay. Um… when was your first crush?”

Tony stayed quiet for a moment. “I can honestly say, Pepper.”

“Ugh, please!” Peter said with an eye role.

“Potion, remember? It’s the truth. I mean – I’d been with women before that, but it never felt like a crush. I never felt like I do with her.”

“You didn’t crush on anyone in high school?”

“Nah. I was too self-involved to be involved with anyone else.”

“Did you ever fail a subject in high school?”

“Afraid not.”

“Did you ever even get an F?”

“Nope.”

Peter looked unsatisfied.

“Neither did you,” Tony reminded him.

“Yeah,” Peter murmured, looking down at his hands that were clasped together tightly. “I know I get good grades. But now my teacher wants me to graduate early and get into college, because he thinks I’m bored in class and everything is too easy for me. Which is maybe a little true, but I don’t really care. I still have fun at school. And I don’t want to leave my friends. Because I don’t make friends easily, anyways, let alone with people much older than me. I don’t want to be that sixteen-year-old kid sitting between the twenty-something-year-olds at university. That just sounds completely _horrible_ , if I’m honest. Which, well, I guess I am.”

“Okay,” Tony said, a little surprised at the long-winded confession. He hadn’t even asked anything.

“I know you always want me to do these amazing things. And I think my teacher knows it too, which is why he said he’d email _you_ about it, because he figured you’d talk me into it. Which is just all kinds of lame, because if he thinks I’m so smart then why doesn’t he listen to my opinion? And I just didn’t want… because you’re always talking about… how smart I am, and how I should win a Nobel prize and stuff.”

Tony shook his head and sat forward a little to look Peter in the eye. “Pete, let me tell you something, and please remember that I took about a triple dose of truth potion: your wellbeing is a hundred times more important to me than your academic achievements, all right? If you don’t want to leave your friends, I understand that perfectly.”

“Really?” Peter asked, looking tentatively relieved.

“I don’t know what else I could possibly do to convince you,” Tony said with a grin.

Peter smiled. “All right. Thanks. Well… sorry for deleting that email.”

“Yes,” Tony said, nodding. “Especially since I can’t now email him _back_ and tell him to get the hell off your case.”

At that, Peter chuckled. “I’ll definitely give you his email address,” he promised.

At that moment, the door flew open and Pepper marched in. “Tony, did you get those books I asked you to buy?”

“Uh, no,” Tony said. “I bought a 3D printer instead.”

Peter clasped both hands in front of his mouth to stifle his chuckles.

Pepper came to a stop next to the table. “What? Why?”

“Because books are boring, and a 3D printer is interesting,” Tony said, looking only mildly apologetic.

“So I can’t finish my work today, because _you_ decided to buy another toy?”

“3D printers can be useful, you know,” Tony defended.

“Oh, they _can_ be useful?” Pepper mocked. “What have you done with it, so far?”

“Um,” Tony said. “Made a pencil sharpener. Shaped like a tiny elephant.”

Pepper shot him a withering glare. “Are you kidding me?”

“I literally can’t,” Tony informed her. “I took a truth potion. And I’m trying to get Peter to ask me embarrassing questions.”

Pepper crossed her arms, a devious look on her face. “Oh, really? Want me to give him a suggestion?”

“I really don’t,” Tony promptly replied.

Pepper patted Peter on the head. “Ask him what happened on his last holiday in Greece when he sat down to order a beer. And then ask him what happened when he was on the phone with a woman who he _thought_ was my mother. And _then_ ask him what he did new years eve 1998.”

“Pepper!” Tony exclaimed.

“Good luck honey!” She said sweetly. “I’m just going to go out and buy some books. Ta-taaa!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was the last prompt I had written down. We very fittingly end with a prompt from 8salfeti8, who has worked very hard to translate my works into Russian. I hope this little experiment has kept you all a bit more entertained through quarantine.  
> As always, stay safe & healthy!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Quarantined](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23338960) by [EmilyWeaslette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmilyWeaslette/pseuds/EmilyWeaslette)




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